Enough complaining about the bowels of parenting hell. My husband is back in town! And I got 9 hours of sleep last night! In a row! And tonight is Project Runway! Today is officially a great day to be alive! Whee!
I think the kids and I have even settled into the new daycare. Both kids have been entirely tear free for several days now and everyone continues to make lots of new friends. I don’t want to say I love the new place but I definitely like it and continue to like it more each day.
Since starting Kindergarten, there’s been zero television watching for my daughter just as I had hoped. After school ends, they stay in their same classroom and do crafts and play with toys the rest of the afternoon with an after school teacher. My daughter loves the lady and I find her sitting right next to her everyday doing crafts.
Otherwise they’re outside running around on the playground. I seriously love that. I’m strongly in favor of all activities that involve my kid running around. In fact, if I ran the place, I'd have those Kindergarteners running on a treadmill from 3 to 4 everyday. Full speed with an incline. I’d consider it a personal favor from me to their parents. Because, dude, is my kid a bottomless pit of energy. Feel free to wear some of it off for me.
I come home at the end of the day and feel accomplished when I get dinner on the table. My daughter thinks dinner is the opening credits. She’s just waiting through that to get to the feature presentation which needs to include squealing, running and flinging of bodies against me. There should also be talking and listening and reading and playing with my hair and pressing of noses to my cheek. There’s also the reading and reading and reading of the same books over and over again. Someone please jump start my brain because the Disney Princess anthology is putting me into a catatonic state every night.
My son’s class is still watching a few minutes of television during diaper changes but his new teacher is insanely nice so I’m down with her, too. Chick’s so nice my husband’s convinced it must be fake. But then he also thinks everyone at the new daycare is so insanely friendly and nice it must be a cult.
I think maybe they’re genuinely nice. My innate cynicism requires that I qualify that statement with “maybe" but I’m growing less suspicious. But the less suspicious I get the more concerned I get that they’ll discover that my husband and I aren’t as over the top insanely nice as everyone else and they’ll kick us out or something. Either that or they’ll stage an intervention and try to get us to join the cult. But maybe that’s just my innate paranoia talking.
I especially think my son's teacher is sweet. I’m basing this conclusion solely on my surreptitious observations of her exiting her car with her daughter one day last week. She didn’t tell that kid to hurry up once. She was all waiting and chatting. And by that I mean, she seemed to be enjoying her kid’s dawdling instead of silently grinding her teeth and thinking “Look alive.” Not that I’m like that. Not everyday anyway. But still. I admire a pleasant attitude. Especially when she’s not aware anyone’s watching. Unless she thought the cult was watching out a window. So who knows. But I figure he’s in good hands.
Good potentially cultish hands. What more could a mother ask for.