I should've known something like this would happen. Kindergarten was just going too smoothly.
I could deal with the worksheets that came home, with the letter of the week to trace and pictures to cut out and glue to the paper.
Even the special "decorate your own snowman" assignment this winter was no problem, as the teacher provided the circles to cut out and my son decorated it all by himself.
We're in the home stretch now, people. Just over a month to go.
That's why that little blue paper in my son's folder the other day was such a shock. A slap in the face, really.
It's a project. An art project "for you to complete with your child." Which we all know really means "attempt to show up all the other moms by doing a multi-media presentation."
I did not choose to be an older mom. No. In my plans for the future, I would marry in my mid-20s and have my first child before 30.
A funny thing happened along the way. It's called reality. The truth is, I passed my 30th birthday still single. A husband - heck, even a boyfriend - was nowhere in sight.
My mother told me around this time she'd given up on ever having grandchildren. Which I found very encouraging. But maybe she had a point.
The career I chose kept me traveling around the country and working weekend nights. It also gave me an easy excuse for why I wasn't meeting anyone. I wasn't entirely depressed about it. Just somewhat.
And then I met my future husband on a layover in the airport in Atlanta in 1999. I was moving from South Florida to Orange County for a job. He was returning home from a business trip. We were married 2 1/2 years later. Two years after that - two weeks before my 35th birthday - I had my first child.
You're pregnant. You've already decided you're going to nurse your child.
The baby is born. He's cleaned and swaddled before you even get to hold him. And you discover that even though something is natural doesn't mean it's easy.
You see two lactation consultants and they give you conflicting information on which hold to use and how to get your baby to stay awake long enough to latch. You're still waiting for your milk.
You've got six weeks before heading back to work. In the meantime, you're freaked out because you've heard all about "nipple confusion" so you don't want to give your baby bottles yet, but know you'll have to once you go back to work.
Your mother thinks you should quit nursing anyway. YOU got formula and you turned out just fine, she says.
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