SURPRISE!

Monday, May 30 2011 (Memorial Day)

About a month ago, I returned from work one afternoon and was welcomed by David telling me he had talked to my parents.  Now, whereas there’s nothing strange about that, he continued by saying that he “needed to ask them for advice.” About me. Huh?  After 8 years of marriage?  Really? If I could sit down, because he needed to talk to me.  Now, I ceased being able to keep up with the speed at which my brain was working: did I shop (too much)?  Did I forget something?  Did I say something?  Did I not say something?  Maybe I did shop too much.  This cannot be good.

Then he told me: had had wanted to surprise me and didn’t quite know how to go about it.  My best childhood friend (for 30 years) is getting married in my hometown in The Netherlands this Wednesday and he wanted to surprise me with a ticket to attend the wedding to surprise her.  The thing he needed advice from my parents on: should he go ahead and pack my suitcase? Then, have me come home from work one day, only to inform me that that very evening I would be flying out to Europe?  Or, should he tell me now, so I could prepare?

Luckily, my parents (and David too) knew me well enough to know that I am graced with an A-personality and figured that therefore I would appreciate the heads up, so I could arrange someone to cover me for work, get a dress, get accessories, pack myself and shop.  (Notice the recurring element here?)

And here we are.  Approximately a month later: at LAX, enjoying my last Frapuccino (with extra caramel and whipped cream – when you have one, you gotta do it right) before getting on a plane and not be able to have another one until a week from now when I return.  Frappuccino, time and a laptop to write.  Heaven.

This will be my first trip alone – without David, without the children (other than my so-much-enjoyed Mom’s Weekend Out from last year).  Between booking my ticket and yesterday I was ecstatic: a week for myself.  Surprising Saskia, attending her wedding, spending time with my parents, seeing my 2 best friends from college and my “Oma” and playing tourist in my home country.  Not having to keep the boys from bothering each other, from expressing their dominance and from stealing each other’s toys.  Ahhh, peace and quiet.  Even the plane ride: I get to sit back, watch movies, eat, drink and sleep.  That sounded pretty good to me.

Then came yesterday.  I packed and got everything ready for this week’s trip.  And then it hit me: I was also leaving the hugs and kisses, the giggles, the tickles, the bright faces and the “I LOVE you Mommy” behind.  The mixed feelings set in and the excitement was joined by some sadness, melancholy and a small dose of emptiness.

The goodbye at the airport was quick, but left me with watery eyes.  The time I had, waiting to check my luggage, was just enough to once again realize how blessed I was for having such an amazing husband such cool sons.  Life is good.

When I made my reservation I had selected that I preferred an aisle seat.  With legs that are part of a 6ft. body, I desperately need to be able to stretch them – especially on a 10-hour flight.  Imagine my surprise when I checked in online yesterday and I was assigned a middle seat.  Huh?  What had gone wrong?  A phone call to the Delta customer support center didn’t yield much.  I was able to get an aisle seat for the way back.  Dear young, simple soul at the call center:  Please don’t make it sound like you were able to help me out a great deal.  You simply gave me 1/2 of what I should have had to begin with.  That is nothing to be proud about! 

And there he was: the man who was going to make my day (other than my husband and my 2 boys).  He was the KLM employee behind the check-in counter with whom I was going to try my luck.  And lucky I got, at the KLM check-in counter.  I got the last emergency exit seat.  Ya know, the one with extra legroom.  ChaChing!  Yes Baby!  Mama got lucky and Mama’s LOVIN’ it.  It’s the beginning of a beautiful thing.
Being 3 hours early is paying off in abundance: dropped my suitcase off at the TSA checkpoint without waiting.  Security check: no waiting.  And then: the body scan!  Oh yeah! Complete strangers got to see parts of me that neither my husband, nor I have ever seen myself.  Now, I completely understand the procedure and it certainly provides a certain sense of security, but all I’m saying is “I’m happy I’m not in that particular week of the month.”  You know, when they see what type of feminine hygiene products you use.  AWKWARD!

And here I am.  Judging by the line at the gate that is longer and longer, I think we’ll be boarding soon.  I never really get the reasoning behind that.  Why wait in line, standing, when you will be called to board by row?  There is absolutely no use being in front of the line, when you’re going to be called last anyways.

On that note, let me sign off and pack up here.  Let’s get the party started.

NOTE: due to the surprise-nature of my trip the publishing of this post has been delayed.

Surprises, Growing Up and Catching Up

I love surprises.  LOVE LOVE LOVE surprises.  Good ones, fun ones, cool ones,that is.  I love surprising and I love being surprised.  The hardest part when I am (part of) the "Surpriser" (as opposed to the "Surprisee" - spell check tells me there are no such terms known in the English language.  I say: "As of now there are") is to not let anything be known.  To the Surprisee that is.  Keeping my mouth shut is do-able.  [Strike that.  No, it's not.]  Not mentioning anything directly is do-able, not writing about it, or eluding to it is challenging.  Hence me not having written for a while.

We surprised David’s dad with a visit over Easter weekend.  David’s Stepmother had arranged for us to fly out to visit them, so my Father-in-Law was made to believe that family from Canada was coming.  Awesome surprise.  My in-laws had seen Ryder when he was just born.  The giant baby they got to spend time with during this visit was a completely different phenomenon than the (still substantial) infant they had met just over a year ago.  Kai was super excited about the prospect of flying.  He – on purpose – did not get to talk to his grandpa in the weeks preceding our trip as he was obsessed with the fact that he was “going to fly in an airplane to visit grandpa in Texas!”

With the California weather warming up and in anticipation of our trip, we decided that the moment had come.  The moment that Kai needed to get a big-boy haircut.  No more trimming attempts from Papa.  Real haircut.  The place where this momentous event was going to take place?  A salon called Little Rock Star.  I mean, c’mon, the name itself exudes confidence and coolness.  Perfect for my Little Dude.  My Little Dude who would enter as Little Dude and exit as Cool Rockstar.  The chairs are cool cars, and thus, perfect for toddler dudes.  Armed with a snack cup with Goldfish, David took Kai on his little make-over excursion.  Here’s what followed:

Before:

Ready (not so much)...Set...

Go!

Finished:

I will never forget the feeling that consumed me when he came running in and exclaimed:  “Mommy!  I have spikes!”  I cried.  Yes, I cried on the inside and I had a hard time holding back the tears.  My toddler had walked out the door earlier that afternoon and a boy returned.  I lovingly renamed him my Cool Rockstar Dude.

So, armed with spiky hair, his own suitcase and a painfully overpriced chocolate croissant, Kai was ready to conquer the sky.

And he did.

Ryder on the other hand...what shall I say...made me not want to return to Los Angeles.  The thought of taking him onto a plane again, without being able to make it understood that I will get him (pretty much) anything his heart desires if only he can make sure as to NOT to cry during the flight, was not something that appealed to me very much.  A 3-hour flight isn’t that long, but it is LOOOOOOONG if you have a very unhappy baby on your lap.  Let’s leave it at that.

We had a lovely time in Texas:

The kids got up to mischief

Beautiful Sunsets

Going for walks and being able to run without being worried about traffic

Making new friends at the playground

Going out for dinner and having a vat ‘o Margarita

Going on an Easter Egg Hunt

Opening Easter Eggs

And lots of cuddles

In other words, we had fun.

The way back...how do I put this?  The first 45 minutes were AWESOME:

After that...let’s just say that we were "that" family.  Yes, the family that oh so many hate as they seem to be incapable of soothing their screaming baby.  Yes, that was us.  And to those people, I say: You obviously don’t have kids.

In other news:
Over the past few weeks Kai has been on an eating strike.  “I don’t like __________” was the evening catch phrase for several weeks.  Even to foods that until recently were categorized as “Favorite”.  I really try not to let it bother me, but for a foodie the “I don’t like _________” is like nails on a chalkboard.  Fast forward to last Thursday when some TV character ate an apple.  Don’t remember the God who consumed the precious fruit, but a God (s)he was.  From that moment on: apples, pears, bananas, blueberries, humus, broccoli and carrots.  The other day he just ate raw broccoli and carrots for dinner. Didn’t touch the meat and home baked sweet potato fries.  Just raw veggies, all the while announcing “I LOVE broccowee and cawods Mama!”  Now, I am seriously considering buying stock in local broccoli and carrot farms.  Happy Mama.

As far as Ryder and food are concerned: Match made in Heaven. Ryder just eats and eats and eats.  I already need a bigger fridge, simply to store the food, which that child consumes.  There is almost nothing that he won’t eat. (Except spinach and lettuce.)

And then there was Mother’s Day.  Ever since 2008, when he missed the fact that his wife was now a mother too, 3 months after she gave birth to Kai, David has been on it with every single Mother’s Day, making up for this mistake that (nonetheless)  will haunt him for the rest of his life.  (Mama will make sure of that.)  This year was no different (no, I didn’t bring up the 2008 Mother’s Day.  HE did!).  It started out with sleeping in.  A 10am “Happy Mother’s Day MAMA!!!” wish and a big hug and kiss from Kai, followed by a beautiful breakfast in bed.  A drawing from Kai contained an iPod and accessories for Mama’s new car!  A beautifully wrapped gift from David contained a gorgeous necklace to go with a new dress that I had bought.  2 hours later I left the house to go for a 1-1/2 hour massage.  1-hour massages I am familiar with (OH YES, I AM), but I had never had a 1-1/2 hour massage and it was awesome.  Now that I have drank the 1-1/2 hour massage “Koolaid”, I am hooked.  Seriously, that was indulgence.  The rest of the day was spent with hugs and kisses from all my boys.  An easy and lovely dinner finished the day.

Unfortunately, that night the boys (the little ones) decided that since it was past Midnight, Mother’s Day was over and Mama could resume her duties.  Kai was up from midnight – 3pm with “growing pains” in his legs.  Massage and cuddles helped him.  Me, not so much.  I have decided that the child needs a bigger bed, so that I can fit in it on nights like these.  At 3:30 Ryder decided that sleeping during the night was severely overrated.  He was up and decided to let us know.  Somehow I ended up with him falling asleep on my chest in the glider.  Lovely at first, truly, but after a while my body started to get sore and stiff.  As comfortable as the glider is, it’s not an ideal sleeping location.  I snoozed on and off for an hour with Ryder in my arms, until I woke up at 5am, in desperate need of another 1-1/2 hour massage.  Ryder relocated to the crib (and slept through the relocation) and mama tiptoed to her bed, where I was able to catch 1 hour of sleep, before my alarm went off at 6am.  Seriously, I vote for a Mother’s Day at least every quarter.

In the last week Kai came down with his first ear infection.  Both kids battled a cold that lingered around for a good 2 weeks.  They are both over it, Kai is done with his antibiotics and it seems like we can move on again.  I suspect that Ryder is doing some serious Molar-Growing as the fussiness levels have reached insane heights over the past few days.  Did I mention that it should be Mother’s Day more often?  All I say is Mommy Timeout is a good thing!  It’d be nicer if it came with a cocktail and a shoulder rub, but I will take any timeout I can get.

All of Ryder’s eating has allowed him to outgrow his changing table.  The boy is 15 months old and he is longer than his changing table is wide.  Combine that with his strong dislike of getting his diaper changed and it makes for sometimes frustrating and sometimes amusing scenarios.  When it was time for the inevitable diaper change (you know, the one that happens approximately 8 times/day), this afternoon, he wasn’t having it.  Kicking, thrashing and kicking.  Did I mention kicking?  Unfortunately for him, Mama (for now) is still stronger and wins the battle, so on the changing table he goes.  He gets mad.  Kicks in the air and in his movement down hits the wooden end of the changing table with his heel.  Screams.  Gets mad.  Puts his heels against the end of the changing table.  Pushes.  Pushes so hard that he pushes himself up and hits his head on the (other) wooden end of the table.  Gets madder.  Wants toy.  Gets toy.  Doesn’t want toy and throws toy.  Toy obeys the laws of gravity and comes sailing down as mama is unable to catch it in between wiping butt and changing diaper.  Toy lands on chin.  Baby now livid.  Takes toy and angrily starts waving it around – to teach damn toy a lesson.  Waves so hard that knuckles hit the side of the changing table and toy, once again, follows gravity and falls to the ground.  Baby madder than mad.  Wants other toy.  Gets other toy.  Doesn’t want THAT toy.  Yes, does want THAT toy.  No.  Yes.  No.  Yes.  Aaaaah, we’re done.  Finally.

So, that’s where we’re at in this house full of testosterone.  We’re happy.  We’re blessed.  We’re fed.  And...exhausted, but, we go on and try to enjoy each step of the way.  Yes, I said we “try”.  I just need to remind myself of that at 4 o’clock in the morning.

My "OMG-I-Totally-Missed-That-Moment"

Math in Los Angeles goes something like this:  rain in the Valley = snow in the Mountains.

So, after a few weeks of some substantially wet days, we were talking about taking that day and making it up into the mountains.  And we continued to talk.  And we continued to talk.  By the time we were finishing up the conversation we had spent several days drinking iced drinks in the sun outside and we came to the conclusion that we had to speed things up before the snow was completely gone.

And there we went, on a Sunday in March.  We had borrowed snow gear from friends, I had packed sandwiches, baked cookies and made hot cocoa and off we were.  It was a sunny day and around 65 degrees.  That was around 8am.  Yes, we were practically dressed in T-shirts and shorts on our way up to the snow.  The closer we got to Mt. Pinos, the more doubts I started to have on validity of the website that I had been checking over the days leading up to our daytrip, telling me there was enough snow to be found "up there".  But, as we arrived at the top, we were welcomed by slopes covered in white magic.  Perfect.

We bundled up the kids, we bundled up ourselves and off we went.  Yes, by then it was below freezing with a bright blue sky and strong wind.  Chilly.

It was the boys' first snow experience.  Ryder spent most of the morning managing to pull his gloves off, only for me to put them back on.  If not busy with that, he occupied himself with only 1 other thing: screaming his little head off:

So the kid doesn't like the snow.  Understandable, but not acceptable.  He'll have to get used to that with me as a mom as I do want to start incorporating more snow in our family winters in Los Angeles.  And this day trip was only the beginning of that tradition.  Oh well, there's always next year.

Kai, on the other hand, LOVED it:

After one of our bumpy sled rides down the mountain, Kai announced that the snow was "Cool!" and that he "wanted to move here".  Comment duly noted.

At the end of the day there was hot cocoa, rosy cheeks and great memories.

The drive back was peaceful

and before we knew it, we were back in the backyard, in our shorts and T-shirts.  Our boys were obviously in two different minds on whether snow was cool or not: Kai loving it, Ryder not so much.  Until...

... I downloaded the photos later that evening and all of a sudden realized that it wasn't the snow, or even the face plant into the snow that had been the distress factor for our little Bruiser Bruisee. 

His hand!  It was gone!  Vanished!  Disappeared in a matter of seconds.  Without anyone noticing it.  Gone.  Forever!!! 
In my attempt to keep the darn gloves on his hands, I had put the gloves on first, before putting the jacket on.  When his hand didn't fit through the sleeve opening I decided to leave it in the sleeve.  After all, that was a heck of a lot warmer than having it stick out anyways.  The little dude probably thought his hand had disappeared and was frantically trying to figure out when the heck that had happened and how, from now on, he would have to feed himself without his trusting right hand.  And that, in and by itself is reason for GREAT concern.

Nope.  I hadn't noticed it.  It hadn't occurred to me.  Not for a second.  Thank heavens for photos - not only to serve the purpose of documenting memories, but also for being the voice of a 13-month old, who is yet unable to make his frustrations understood. ("heard"- Yes.  "understood" - not always.)

Happy to Be Mom

Even if I had had the time to sit down and write over the past weeks, not much exciting would have been put on paper.  It would have been limited to stories about colds, snotty noses, coughing spells in the middle of the night, raspy voices, more snotty noses and Vicks.  That pretty much sums up the past few weeks.

Then came the other day at the playground.  It was a sunny afternoon and perfect to spend an hour after naps outside, running, climbing, chasing and sliding.  The playground is part of a recreational area, managed by the city of Los Angeles.  There are picnic tables, baseball fields, basketball courts and around a large field lies a track that is used for strolling, walking, jogging and other workout activities.

As the boys were climbing, going down slides and chasing each other, a little girl caught my attention.  She must have been approximately the same age as Kai.  She had beautiful blond curls that bounced around as she was playing in the sand.  Next to her sat a lady, who certainly wasn't her mother.  I assumed she was the nanny.  All of a sudden the girl got up out of the sand and walked over to the fence.  While holding on to the wire, she pointed and said: "Look Maria!  It's Mommy!"  I looked in the direction she was pointing and as I clocked a blond woman strolling over the track, talking to (what I assume was) her friend, the little girl called out "Hi Mommy!" and waved enthusiastically.  The blond woman didn't hear or see her.  The little girl hesitated for a moment.  Then, she hung her head and with a sad look on her face, returned to the edge of the sand box where she sat and just stared at the sand in front of her.

It is by no means my intention to start the discussion on the pros and cons of nannies, but it reminded me of a conversation I had had with a nanny at that same playground a few months ago.  She told me that she had been the nanny of this little boy for practically his entire life (he was 5 at the time).  His father was a producer, his mom didn't work.  "So," I asked.  "If his mom doesn't work, then why are you practically raising this boy?"  The answer: "because his mom goes for pedicures, wine get-togethers and spa visits with her girlfriends."  I remember at that point, my mouth just dropping open.  I was so dumbfounded that I was unable to get a word out of it.

Seeing the little girl, desperately wanting to connect with her mom and not being able to do so, broke my heart and as I am writing this, my heart goes out to her.  All she wanted, was to connect with her mom.  The person she should be connecting with.  On the playground, at home, in the park, heck, in the grocery store.  Don't get me wrong, a break once in a while from being a mom is nice.  Some pampering, hanging out with friends, I am all for it.  But when I look around at these playgrounds I see so many children with nannies / baby sitters, that I couldn't help but make certain assumptions when I saw the events of that afternoon unfold in front of my eyes.

Seeing the sadness and disappointment in this little girl's eyes, made me realize how happy I am with the life that I live.  Though I still teach part-time, I get to spend amazing quality time with my boys.

I get to go to the playground with them and push them in the swings:




I get to tuck my boys in for the naps and get to see how Kai prefers to fall asleep for naptime:



On those beautiful days that he actually takes the nap, I get to wake him up and walk in on this:



I get to experience this "view from above".  The baby, grabbing on to my legs, with no intention of letting go until hugs, kisses and more hugs have been delivered:



I get to be there when Kai discovers a new hiding place:



And finally, I get to be the one Kai comes to to show off his new footwear:



Honestly, it would bother me if I wasn't there to share those moments.  I LOVE those moments and am so incredibly grateful that those moments are MY memories of my children growing up.

Yes, there are absolutely days that I wish there was someone who was willing to take my little devils off my hands, so I could regain my sanity.  But despite the sleep deprivation, the toddler tantrums, the moments of needing to count to 10 100, I love being a mom and I love taking them to the playground, being the one whose arms they run into for hugs and kisses and to be excitedly told "I LOVE you Mommyyyyy!!"

My Shortest Post So Far

After a full day of having to listen to other people whine (and I am not just referring to my children) I am tired, beat, exhausted and more.  I may later regret it, should I actually speak my mind on today's adventures.  I am going to sit, have a cup of tea, kick back and watch American Idol and just keep my thoughts and opinions to myself.

ETA - My awesome hubby was NOT one of the participants in this "it's Whine-Day" and for that I was very grateful!!  :-)

Pre-MenoWHAT?!?

Earlier today I spoke with a friend of mine who was having one of "those" days.  You know, the one that starts not so great and then only gets worse?  That one.  Our conversation took place around 9am and at that point it was obvious that it was going to be one of those days for her.  Especially since she hadn't had her Java yet.  Ah, the a.m. Java and the p.m. glass of wine.  What would we do without them?  I was happy to be her "venting buddy", but when she went into a bit more detail about the mood swings that had been plaguing her lately, I felt as if I was listening to myself.  Her assumption?  It must be a pre-menopausal thing.  WHAT was that?!?!  WHAT did you say?  Did you just say "pre-menopausal"?  Oh no girlfriend, I am soooo not ready for that yet!!  For one person it may be a pre-menopausal thing, but I think in my case I prefer to call it "being-mother-to-two-lovely-cute-little-boys-who-regularly-test-boundaries-and-enjoy-pushing-buttons" (my buttons, that is).

In the beginning of January I committed myself to a little experiment: for 3 weeks, upon waking in the morning, I would choose how I wanted to be throughout the day.  I had a little bright pink Post-It note taped to my bathroom mirror, so it would remind me.  Every morning, I took a deep breath and decided what I was going to be about and how I wanted to be with the children.  These 3 weeks turned into 3 amazing weeks.  I admit that I wasn't always successful in maintaining the attitude that I had committed to in the morning, but the few times that this happened, it didn't take me much time to realize what was going on and to get back to where I wanted to be.

It was difficult though, especially with a stubborn, trying, testing the boundaries toddler on my hands.  He seems to have a knack for finding my buttons and pushing them.  Heck, sometimes the kid manages to turn me into one huge button in and by itself.  I hate it when that happens.

Luckily David and I manage to rotate those days; the days that I am the big red button that walks around signaling "Push Me!  Push Me!" are the days that he seems like a Buddhist monk: calm, together, nothing can possibly ruffle his feathers.  And then there are days that those roles are reversed (although I hardly ever consider myself as calm as a Buddhist monk).  Yep, it's a perfect marriage.  We compliment each other pretty well.

Over the past weeks I have had my share of being the Big Red Button around the house, today I was the calm, together, Buddhist monk (wannabe) and it came with my "aha" moment: as parents of toddlers we are pummeled with "give them a clear choice", "be consistent", "draw a clear line", "communicate well", "pick your battles", and so on.  I realized that in many occasions (when I have a Big Red Button day), I "react" and the reaction is what fuels the fire.  Choices are great, but not as a reaction to an action.  The choice needs to come first, before the action.  If that is the case, there is no need for a reaction.  Confused?

Here's an example:
It's bath time and Kai doesn't want to go in the bath.  It's time to get in, he runs away and turns it into a "catch me if you can game".  We react and tell him that he could either come, get in the bath, and have his daily pillow fight prior to going to bed, or we will come get him, in which case he'll go kicking and screaming and the pillow fight will not happen.  This is where it goes from bad to worse. 

Or

Bath time arrives and we give him 2 choices: a bath followed by his pillow fight, or straight to bed.  Which one would he prefer?  Whichever one he chooses, we'll just have to make sure that we're okay with it.  If per chance he changes his mind somewhere half way through the process that follows, it'll be a lot easier for us to calmly explain that this was his choice and if he wishes to do it differently the following day, he can.  We're not reacting with an action, we're reacting with an explanation.

It is fascinating to me that those days that I felt like that Big Red Button, were the days that I didn't take the time in the morning to decide how I was going to be throughout that day.  I let my toddler who came running in and started using my bed as a trampoline, yelling "Mama, wake up!  Make Breakfast!  Mamaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!", waking the baby in the room next door have an effect on my mood that day.  (It may be hard to believe, but a scenario like that, does make it somewhat more challenging to wake up in a calm, relaxed, and zen-like mood.) 

At this point, I can happily say that I have put the thought of pre-menopausal challenges to rest.  Those challenges will have to wait until a later point in my life.  For now, I am simply a mother to two little boys (who I love and adore to pieces) and who are discovering the world around them.

And ... He's Off!

Having 2 children whose birthdays are within a week of each other is great, but this year it has put me on the Xtreme Roller Coaster Ride of Emotions.  Not only did my baby turn 1 last week, but 4 days later, my other "baby" turned 3 and then today...he left me.

With his backpack in one hand and with his "computer" (Scribble & Write) in his other, he marched out the door at 8am, ready to start a new chapter in his life: Preschool. 
I think know he was more ready than I was;  for the past several weeks, he has been reciting the alphabet forward and backwards, teaching it to his 1-year old brother, spelling out every word he sees, counting everything he can count, and finding the greatest joy in going through the alphabet by naming a word for every letter.  "A is for Apple, B is for Boy, Ball and Bee, C is for Carrot" etc., etc.  Mind you that the "K is for Kai", the "M is for Mommy", the "O is for Opa and Oma", the "P is for Papa" and the "R is for Baby Ryder".  Just so we all know.

For several days I had been telling him that he was going to go to the "big boy school", that he was going to make new friends and that Ms. Jill was going to be his teacher.  Forward to this morning.  My alarm clock went off at 7am.  My plan was to leave at 8, so he could be there plenty early to play before class started at 9am.  The school provides breakfast and lunch, so fruit was going to suffice this morning before our departure.  After wakening this morning, I asked him: "Do you know what's going to happen today?"  His response: "I'm going to see Ms. Jill!"  I guess Ms. Jill had made an impression on him, despite being brunette (he tends to prefer blonds). 

So, my cheeky monkey was off to school. On one hand being delighted to (only) have to focus on 1 child this morning, it (obviously) was bittersweet for me.  Kai is growing up; this would be the first day of the rest of his educational career.  From now on, he will either be in school, in college or at work (or so we hope).  Never will I have him home full time anymore (except for summer break).  That chapter is behind me, at least for him.  Honestly, it makes me sooooo happy that I have another one at home!  But it also makes me want to REALLY enjoy and get EVERYTHING out of the time that I now have left with Ryder, while Kai is in school.  I now, more than ever,  realize how fast (as in: incredibly fast) time goes and it makes me sad.  I wish that sometimes I could bottle moments, or make time stand still.

Having said that, I am incredibly proud of my toddler boy.  He's an absolutely awesome dude (though I wasn't so sure about that last night during his Tantrum of the Century) and I was proud and excited to drop him off at school.  He is more than ready and at the end of the day that is what's most important.  If it were up to me, I would hold on to him forever, but that just wouldn't be fair.  What's best for him is what's most important, not what's best for me.  And school is absolutely the best thing for Kai right now.  So there he went.

In the car, he was mostly occupied with his new "computer" - by far the best investment of this year's birthday gifts.

He loves the thing and takes it everywhere, to the point where I have to convince him that the bathroom really isn't the best place to take a piece of electronic equipment. 
Anyways, off to school we went.  It took him about 5 minutes to get used to the place.  We found his cubby where we put his backpack, he put on his smock, and when Ms. Jill suggested he traded Mama's hand for hers, he was officially "at home" at his new school.  Outside play awaited.  Fun! 

Mama left, empty handed and with a heavy heart, harboring so many mixed emotions.  Initially, I was planning on spending it playing with Ryder, but the fridge had cried out desperately, requesting to be filled for the sake of the children, so we spent it grocery shopping instead. When the fridge was filled, Ryder and I returned to the school to pick up Kai.  Upon arrival, we found him digging into Taquitos and consuming his 3rd glass of milk.  I don't think he was grooving too much on the rice and beans, but several taquitos and a 4th glass of milk later, we left.  My question "What did you do at school today?" was answered with "I had waffles for breakfast and taquitos and milk for lunch" told me everything I needed to know.  He was fine.  He did tell me had had fun and when I put him down for his nap he said goodbye, talking about the next school day.  I am beyond thrilled.  Still a bit sad, but beyond thrilled.  Today was the beginning of a good thing.

The rest of the day was spent laughing, giggling, having fun and giving hugs 'n kisses.  My idea of a perfect day.

Here's to preschool and to my big toddler boy.