DC Metro Moms

When Your Child Is Too Scared To Try

I have the most stubborn 4 year old in the entire world.  If you are shaking your head and thinking no, I do, you're wrong.  Trust me.  I win.

This is the kid who would rather have an enema than poop.  Who answers every question with no, I can't, or I don't want to.  He will never learn to ride a bike because he will not sit down on a bike.  Or a tricycle for that matter.

Recently we were away with my whole family, and he was enamored with my seven year old nephew's bike riding.  My brother in law, bless his heart, decided he was going to teach Michael how to ride a bike.  Except, after being on the bike for 2.2 seconds he decided he couldn't do it.  Unless it was one of the MANY TIMES he was in the time out that weekend.  Then we was DYING to ride his bike.  Until he got out of time out.  But he will do it.  Eventually.  If there is anything I have learned from parenting it is this, children do things in their own time.

Why The Three Month Rule Should Apply To Real Estate

Last time you heard from me I was ecstatic over my luck in a bad real estate market.  Except I spoke too soon.  The sale of my home fell threw and therefore the new home sale fell through.  And I learned that the three month pregnancy rule should apply to all real estate transactions.  No blabbing until settlement.

I had the sense to be a little cautious.  My husband surprised me with our favorite bottle of champagne, La Reve (The Dream), the night our offer was accepted, and I said no, we wait until we move into the house.  Which is good, because it looks like we are never moving.  At least into that house.

That champagne has very special meaning for us.

Right before I got pregnant with Michael Doug and I took a wine tour through Napa Valley.  We had been trying for 5 months and it wasn't working so why not right?  We visited a champagne house, Domaine Carneros, and talked about how wonderful this was but what we really wanted was a baby.  We bought a bottle of their most expensive champagne and promised that we would drink it the night the baby was born.

How Do You Move With A Four Year Old?

We did it!  We sold the house in the DC Metro area and bought a new one.  In an amazingly short period of time.  In this real estate market I am in shock my house was only on the market for less than a week and we got 4 offers. And then we were in a bidding war for the house we wanted, but in the end in all worked out.  And now we are moving.  In 6 weeks.

I'm lucky in that most of my belongings are in a POD already.  But when I think about packing up the rest of the house I literally break out into hives.  And then there are all the change of address phone calls.  And home inspections to schedule.  And closings.  And both my husband and I work.

And I was the one who decided this was a good idea

I Don't Think I've Ever Been This Stressed Before In My Life

I have spent the past month getting my house ready to go on the market.  After nagging my husband for two years, he finally agreed, it was time to jump on the buyers market!  But we also have to sell our house.  So there has been decluttering, and staging.  And oh, so much work.

We have done all the big projects our Realtor recommended and now we are just about done with the declutter phase.  Declutter?  With a 4 year old?  And two sets of grandparents who believe their role is to single handedly buy out Target and Toys R Us?

We have rented a Pod.  We are packing boxes.  My answer to Doug every time he asks me do we need this is throw it out without even looking up.  Because if he is asking me that question we are clearly not using the item very much.  I better not be invited to any formal events this summer because all my fancy dresses and shoes and handbags are in the Pod.  All of our winter coats are in the Pod.  All of our servings pieces and good china and all things Thanksgiving related are in the Pod.  So we are either moved into a new house by Thanksgiving or someone else is on call for Turkey day next year.

Always an Adventure at Adventure Theater

Michael loves to put on little shows.  He will make us say "introducing Michael" and then launch full scale productions of the 3 Little Pigs, Scooby Doo, or Bolt.  So when a local Children's Theater had a preschool theater class, I knew I had found the perfect activity for him. 

Now, before I get lectures on being a stage parent, I am not signing him with an agent or anything.  I believe in finding one activity a child loves and fostering it.  Be it sports, art, drama, it is all fine.  Michael is not a sports kid.  Soccer was a disaster of epic proportions.  He laid down in the middle of the field and refused to participate for 12 WEEKS.  I just took him to a soccer birthday party and he was all "Mommy, I love soccer, can I play soccer?"  And I said, "your father can take you because I did my time in soccer hell."

When You Are The Only Mom Who Has A Job

I love my son's preschool, but it is not set up for the working mom.  Morning care doesn't start until 8:15 and after care ends at 5:30.  Summer camp only goes until 3, and even then it is only 6 weeks.  They closed for 2 weeks for winter break and spring break.  There are meetings during the day and they expect every child to have a parent on every field trip.  And no, it is not a co-op.

I work part-time.  And most of the time we have managed to make it work.  Except lately I have been working more than part time I have not been able to make all the book fairs and all the meetings and Michael has been in morning care and after care a little longer than most of the other kids.

And trust me, people notice.  And Michael notices.

Why I Will Be The Last Person On The Planet To Join Facebook?

Look, I'm not on Facebook.  I get asked at least once a day if I am on Facebook and the answer is always no.  And it's not just people anymore, it's my son's preschool, my favorite consignment store, my gym. 

"You get emailed a coupon if you become our fan on Facebook." 

"I'm not on Facebook." 

"Huh?" 

"I'm not on Facebook" 

"How is that possible?"

4 Is Not Better

I was blessed with a really easy baby.  I call it my payment for a particularly difficult pregnancy, but Michael was a very laid back baby.  Except for nursing difficulties, we were very lucky.  He slept through the night at 5 months.  He rarely fussed.  He never wanted a pacifier.  He weaned himself off the bottle at a year.  He just never wanted it again.  If he was hungry he ate.  If he wanted changing he cried and then stopped when he got a clean diaper.  Otherwise, he was quite content in a swing or a bouncy seat and was never a "hold me, hold me, hold me" baby.  I was one of those moms who always had time to shower and go to the gym and go to Starbucks.  Oh, don't worry this is not going to be one of those my life is so wonderful blog entries because then Michael turned two. 

He may have been an easy baby, but he has been an insanely difficult toddler.  I think more difficult than the average toddler, but I may have a slanted view on this issue.  Part of that is because he is incredibly verbal and the son of a lawyer.  He believes everything is negotiable.  Bedtime, bath time, dessert, more tv, all negotiable.  No does not mean no, it means, "but Mommy," "how about," "I have an idea," or my favorite, "let's talk about this."

Everyone told me, the twos are hard.  The threes are hard.  Just wait until he turns four.  Four is better.  Michael has been four for two weeks.  Everyone lied.

When Your Child Gets Hurt

Two weeks ago I got the call every parent dreads.  "There has been an accident at school and Michael is hurt."

Apparently Michael's cubby had fallen on his hand and his preschool thought his hand was broken and his finger was no longer exactly attached and did I want them to call 911?  I managed to talk them down from 911 because 911, seriously? I was 10 minutes away.  They insisted I could not handle this situation myself and I needed an ambulance.  Having been transported in an ambulance I knew how traumatic it was and did not want that for my three year old.   I got my mother on the phone and she met me at the school and off we went to the hospital.

Five hours later, because seriously EMERGENCY room, he was diagnosed with a fractured finger which was also partially detached, and we had to the wait for the HAND SURGEON to reattach it.  At which point my husband almost passed out because he doesn't do so well with blood, and then there was a discussion of cuts almost to the bone and antibiotics and I got queasy.  And tears, there were lots of tears.  Most of them were from Michael.

And then started the bigger, harder questions.  How did this happen?  Do we send him back to this school?  Is he going to be ok, both physically and emotionally?  Who pays the bills?

A New Phase

I have a fabulous group of friends.  We have been there through every life phase.  Engagement, marriage, baby showers, births, baby namings, bris's, christenings, baptisms, birthday parties, and are doing it all again for second children.

We deliver meals when kids are born.  Balloons and flowers when someone is sick or had surgery.  Everyone has their job and we know who orders what.  But a new phase has started and I'm not quite prepared for it.

Our parents have started dying.