Pffft, Vacation Over

Here's what happened during my week off:
We started with the backyard fence – it’s not build yet, but the holes are dug and most of the pre-fab panels have been stained.
You had a bunch of temper tantrums and Papa says it’s all his fault because he’s been spoiling you.
At some point one night you started hugging my head like you’d gone completely bonkers.
Otherwise you’re now weaned. Yep, you’re off the boob. I’m not sure how I feel about it – a bit sad I guess, but also glad ‘cause, you know, I do like coffee. And a glass of wine or something every once in a while. On the bright side, you’ve become a bit more snugly since you no longer get the boob, so I’m not too sad.
We also went to parks a lot and tried to get you to not hate the wading ponds as much – but that didn’t work out so well. As soon as you got sprinkled on, you lost all ability to move. Just stood there and whimpered until one of us rescued you.
Oddly enough, I completely forgot to make Papa come up with a nice little something for us – but I guess once the fence is in, we’ll get him.
You're sporting a good sized purple bruise on your forehead since you had a huge tantrum and banged your head on the floor. Papa was holding you, but somehow you slipped. Poor monkey.

We also tried once again, successfully this time, to get you a German passport. The first time didn’t go so well because of some document we didn’t know we needed (even though I’d checked with them twice before going), and this time we weren’t sure your photos were acceptable. They are using some new biometrical thingies and it’s pretty much impossible to have a picture taken that is acceptable – they are a bit more lenient with little BabyFreaks, but not much. And you, of course, were not willing to have your picture taken…. Papa took you a couple of times and they never got as far as even getting one, so we both took you and even though you did sit in the chair for me, you just cried and cried and cried and there are visible tear streaks in the picture. We were a bit worried that they were going to be rejected and were scoping out the passport places around the consulate. In the end, the pictures were fine, barely, but we still had two problems:

1. I hadn’t changed my last name when I married Papa and we’d decided to give you his last name.
2. We weren’t married when we had you, scandalous I know, and so somehow according to German law Papa was not really your Papa. Who knew?

After a lot of back and forth and involving a more senior colleague and filling out forms and swearing oaths, it should now be acceptable to the Germans that you and I have different last names and that Papa is indeed your Papa even though we had you before, you know, we got married.

What nonsense, but it had to be done. At first, they weren’t going to accept your passport application until the forms we had to fill out got send to Hamburg and Berlin and were filed away in some legalizing way, but somehow it became possible. They will now even mail us your passport so we don’t have to go again…. Still, it took half a day to sort this out.

Papa and I are hoping that one day you’ll appreciate your dual citizenship.

And we also need to come up with some sort of bedtime routine for you. Until now, we’ve just been letting you go to sleep on the boob or on Papa’s shoulder on rare occasions, but now that there’s no more boob for you, we’ll need to figure out something else. Papa suggested warm milk out of a sippy cup. We tried last night, but it didn’t work – not surprising since you don’t drink milk and you don’t drink out of a sippy cup. We’re not sure why you won’t drink milk, since you take it with your raising bran in the morning, and you’ve never liked the sippy cup. You’ll drink out of a cup or not at all.

We should have known.

Oh. And I found yet another frog in my mailbox at work. For you.

Ribbit Ribbit Ribbit

So erm, ever since the big boss gave me little bath toy frogs for you, everyone else in the office has been getting into the swing of things…. OK, probably not everyone else, but at least one person.

Your frog total now stands at:
 The four original frogs from Doug.
 One frog I found on my laptop when I came back from lunch one day.
 One frog they bought for me from the office budget that can stick its tongue out. It’s the ugliest of them all.
 One folded paper frog I found on my desk one morning.
 A bunch of little wine-gummy frogs someone placed into my mailbox this morning (OK, I suppose those are more likely to be meant for me, but still).

I’m not sure what’s up with that, given that things in my office have turned so nasty. You know, what with the donkey and all – though she’s on vacation and it’s definitely not her that’s leaving nice things for you. Even if she did, I wouldn’t keep them :)

Now, all I have to do is survive a teleconference with the boss and last until 4:30 and then I’ll be home for a week with you and Papa. Yay!

5 Months Already

Since I’ve come back to work.
Sigh.

I’m used to it now, but it’s a much more dysfunctional place than before I went on mat. leave – good thing I’m about to get a week off. Woo hooo! Still have to last through tomorrow, but I can deal with that.

And BabyFreak, before you get all excited, we’re not going anywhere. Nope, Papa was supposed to think up something nice for a little getaway thingie, but you know him…. That didn’t work out so well, though he did come up with the suggestion to drive to Ottawa. Papa and I both used to live there, though that was before we knew each other, while we went to Grad School and we still like the place. We’ve been meaning to go for a while, but somehow it never worked out. And yeah it's nice, but a bit far for a nice, little getaway in a week in which we have to do all sorts of other things as well.

Anyway…. We’re not going. Our car is too small and way too uncomfortable and it’s got no a/c and the last time we went on a road trip and it was hot out, you didn’t do so well. We were kinda worried, actually…. You were sitting in your hot little car seat, all sweaty and half-asleep without any energy at all. Head droopy, eyes half open and all red in the face. Not at all what you do on a normal day – we normally have to sing to you loudly to keep you entertained for the last hour or so because you have gotten sick and tired of sitting down for so long. Anyway, we also don’t really want to spend all that cash just to go to Ottawa.

The plan now is to say put, get some stuff done around the house and to possibly build a fence around the backyard so we can get that all going and turn it into a nice hang-out space for us.

I’m just glad I’ll get to spend some time with my little family, but have, of course, informed Papa that he’s not off the hook exactly and that he should still be planning something nice for the three of us. Not sure how well that’s going to go, but he can make a bit of an effort every once in while, no?

It'll be our last week together before you're starting homecare!

It's Official, Bunny!

In 4 weeks from now, you’ll be starting daycare full-time, though we’ve signed you up part-time starting the couple of weeks prior to that so you can get used to it. We didn’t think it was such a good idea to just drop you off there one day and abandon you for the full day. Not that we like for you to go there in the first place, but it’s the only option we have. At this time anyway.

You are now all signed up with the first place we visited, the private one that we liked. Ilda, your homecare provider (yikes… saying that will take some time getting used to) seems super nice and super flexible, she’s got a house and a yard full of toys, and she’ll take you on outings. We liked her, we liked her set-up and you seemed to like her to – and, she gets big gold stars for this one, she didn’t try to slobber all over you! Plus, she didn't try to force you to play with her or hug her, but waited for you to come to her when you were ready, and that’s really all that’s needed to make you happy around new people.

Papa and I don’t feel totally horrible for having to abandon you. I mean, we do, but at least we get to abandon you with someone who’s nice and who’s got toys and books and who’s flexible and doesn’t have plastic couch protectors. So yeah, I guess under the circumstances we’ll be able to deal with it – besides, everyone tells me that leaving a little monkey at daycare is much harder for the parents than it is for the monkey herself. So I’m just gonna go with that, at least for now.

Papa is having a hard time starting to think about going back to work. In his usual fashion, he won’t really talk about it, but I know. I also know how he feels, ‘cause when I had to do it back in February I barely knew how to deal with it. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do and I was so completely upset about it that I just cried and cried and cried for days.

Anyway, we seemed to have tamed your tantrums a bit and once again you’re more enjoyable. You still like to shove as much food into your mouth as possible, up to the point of near choking, and when we don’t give you more until you’ve chewed and swallowed, you have a complete meltdown.

And we’re also weaning you. You’ve been fairly good with it, but it’s pretty clear that you’d prefer to keep going with the boob. I’m sorry Bunny, but it’s got to be done. I just wish we could explain it to you so you wouldn’t be so completely blindsided by it.

Who Ate My Baby?

More proof you are indeed early with the toddlerfreakishness….. Your temper tantrums are no longer just occasional diversions, but they are actually all you do. Constantly. Over and over and over again.

You want to go outside, but you start banging your head on the floor when we put on your shoes. You are hungry but start screaming when we put you into your high chair or come near you with food. You want to play with the ball, but get most upset when the ball comes near you. You scream. You holler. You cry. You bang your head. You get mad. Then you get over it – just to do it all over the next chance you get.

Amusing? Not anymore.
Cute? In a way, I guess it still is.
Annoying? Yes, definitely.

I’ve been telling Papa that you’re behaving like a 2 year old for weeks, probably months, now (yes, sometimes I do know best) and I’m not sure he ever believed me. Now he seems to, though he also blames himself for having spoiled you. Not sure I agree with that, though I know he’s very quick to jump and pick you up at the first sign of you beginning to think about complaining. You were pretty well adjusted to playing on your own while I had breakfast when I was still home with you – sure, you’d have preferred to sit on my lap, but you learned that you couldn’t for those few minutes and were fine with it – now, you proudly sit on Papa’s lap when he has breakfast and freak out completely if he so much as tries to remove you. He’s such a sucker – and you, of course, shamelessly take advantage of him. And why wouldn’t you?

We were just discussing you, a co-worker and I were, and when I described what you’ve been up to lately, she said she doesn’t believe it ‘cause you’re “such a little angel!”. Yeah right! Though in all fairness, she’s only ever seen you a couple of times, back in the days when you were still a sweet baby and we thought temper tantrums were at least another year and a half or two years away.

Anyway, tomorrow we’re going out for brunch with friends and I guess then we’ll concentrate on turning you into a slightly normal person again.

You know, one that is enjoyable and cute and sweet. One that laughs a lot and plays, one that is a little less miserable. One that resembles You.

You Ain't Goin' There, Babe!

So, erm, trying to find a decent daycare provider for you is not much fun and it’s not easy, either. Of course, it’s no fun ‘cause I’d much rather not look in the first place but stay home with you myself. But it’s even less fun because these people are freaks, I tell you, complete freaks!

Papa and I decided to find a homecare provider for you rather than send you to a real daycare centre. This was supposed to be good – it was supposed to be close to our home, run by qualified people, in an enriched environment, etc., etc. Your home away from home, you know. The agency we chose came highly recommended and when I first talked to them way back when, they seemed so great and they sent us the nicest information kit and we thought ok, we’re in business.

Well, and then we applied and things started to be a bit more weird. First they were running late in setting up appointments and then they wanted us to check one out that is at least a 30 minute drive away… Let’s just say we were not impressed, but appointments in our neighbourhood were finally made and we went to the first two over the past weekend.

Place #1 – run by an elderly lady who speaks a bit of English and covers her living room furniture, the room in which you’d be spending most of your time if over my dead body we’d let you go there, in protective plastic covers. Enough said, right? To be polite, we stayed a bit and asked questions and it turns out that she has very few toys and that the ones she does have all fit under the living room couch. It’s not that we’re expecting her to have a toy Hummer just for you or anything, but please! She didn’t even have one single book! Naps are strictly regimented – “everyone naps at 1:00 because I need a break. Just on Mondays, things get messed up a bit because the children loose the routine over the weekend, so they may nap at ten to 1:00”. You could just tell that she was quite put out by that. Anyway, this happens after we specifically said in the registration form that we’re looking for someone flexible who understands that babies have their own schedules sometimes. Yikes. No way you’re going there. Never.

Place #2 – run by a veiled woman who also only speaks a bit of English. She tried to kiss you before we were even inside her house and then physically restrained you from entering her living room because we’d not taken off your sandals. That was nice, too. This room had zero toys, zero, but a big screen TV in it. Who knows what they mean by enriching environment, but surely it must include at least some toys and books? You would think so, but again, there were no books in sight, anywhere. She did have a few more toys than the other one, tucked away somewhere in a hot little room at the back of the house, but we didn’t really care to see them or anything. She also kept trying to pick you up and slobber all over you, even though you made it quite clear that you weren’t into it. Anyway, there’s no way you’re going there, either. Never.


Yikes, Schnuffi! This makes me even sadder at having to find a daycare provider for you. Anyway, on the bright side we have Ilda whose only problem is that she’s a bit further away from us than is convenient and that she’s completely private so there’s no one checking up on her. But she’s nice! She’s got toys! She’s got books! She didn’t try to slobber all over you! She speaks English! She’s got toys and a little kiddie pool in her yard! She personally comes highly recommended! She has awesome references! We liked her! Yeah, so if this agency can’t come up with anything better, then at least we’ve got a place that doesn’t horrify us completely.