Second Monday…

Man, just when I thought we were doing so well, good old second Monday rolls around to fudge everything up. And though she was grumpy, tired and downright hostile a few times, Greta's finest moments this morning involved some truly inventive delay tactics.

First, she said she was too sick to go to school. Oldest trick in the book, I know, but, still very effective, especially since she has a very mild cold. But, since that was my go-to excuse growing up, daddy wasn't buying it. Sorry, biscuit.

So, then she got really creative and staged a “sit in” on the toilet for like five minutes. When I told her we had to leave, Greta said she was waiting for her poo to come out and that she wasn't going to school until it did. Good times! Needles to say, the poo never came and many tears were shed as we made our way to the kitchen to put on her shoes.

There again, she pulled out the big guns claiming that her shoes had tiny sticks in them that I couldn't see but that hurt her feet. After much stick searching and more tears, we switched to another pair and hurried to the car, where she staged perhaps her finest trick of the morning: pretending to fall asleep on the drive to school!

I don't remember trying that one as a kid, but, wow, if they gave out gold stars for morning delay tactics Greta would be top of her class! Simply put, she was good, but I was better. And since I've grown accustomed to half-dragging her ass to school lately, I just pretended not to notice that she was “asleep” and kept right on dragging.

And despite all the tears and recriminations — not to mention the fact that she would not say “goodbye” to me when we parted — we still somehow managed to make it to school on time, but something tells me we're in for another long-ass week…

 

 

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Kindergarten Week One: The New World Order

Yesterday marked the end of the first full week of kindergarten and let me tell ya, whoever said I’d have more time on my hands once Greta started school is full of shit. I haven’t felt this frazzled and out-of-my-element since those first few days after we brought Greta home from the hospital. Seriously, it’s been non-stop since Monday morning.

One of my new mom friends equated this week with starting a new job, and she’s not far off. I was anxious, way too concerned with my hair and what I was wearing, tired as fuck (sorry, but my usual F-word substitute, “fudge,” just didn’t seem to express how truly exhausting this week has been) and completely overwhelmed with paperwork. Insanity!

And though there have been definite highlights and I’ve made fast friends with several very chill moms and dads of students in Greta’s class, I think all three of us are a little overwhelmed by the sweeping sea change washing over us right now.

So far, Greta has been loving school but it’s the getting up in the morning and going there that kills her. However, aside from Wednesday morning, which was just horrific — at one point I was literally dragging her to class! — she really loves her teacher and each new day was better than the last. So, that’s progress in my book.

Personally, I found myself finally getting into the groove around Thursday, which is great because it ended up being one of the longest days of my life. I got up at 7:15 (which, believe it or not, has been my start time all week!), got Greta ready, dropped her off at school at 8:25 and then headed to my first PTA meeting at 8:30. Luckily for me, I managed to squeeze in some breakfast, because it turned out to be a three hour meeting! Yikes…who knew?

Fortunately, the meeting got out a little early (at around 11:00) so I had time to run to Costco and Trader Joe’s before heading back to school to pick up Greta at 1:30. We then headed to the park for a mini reunion with some of our old friends from Greta’s pre-school days, and then headed from there straight to ballet class, where we shared an emotional goodbye with Greta’s beloved ballet teacher who started her maternity leave today.

After ballet, we ran home to change and pick up Mrs. Yeti and then hurried back to Greta’s school for a massive “Back-to-School” picnic. They had food trucks, music, a farmer’s market selling produce grown at the school’s onsite garden (!) and again, many chances to meet new parent friends. Simply put, it was awesome. If all the parents at Stevenson are as hip, artsy and totally diverse as the ones we met this week, this new world order might not be so bad after all!

Now, if we could just get a handle on the constant flow of paperwork coming our way, I think we might be ready to face week two. Wish us luck!

 

 

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Overloaded

Please forgive my absence of late. We had three big parties over three very-busy weekends in a row and I spent the last week pretty much recovering from the thrill/joy/nausea of it all. Seriously, any one of those parties (one was for the Oscars, one was for Greta’s third birthday and one was for my Grandma’s 90th birthday) would have tired a normal person out. But three parties over three weekends was just plain crazy.

Combine all that with the fact that Mrs. Yeti has been working like a beast (long hours, six-day workweeks, you name it) which means I’ve been doing the brunt of the toddler wrangling, and, well, let’s just say even my best Barbie scenarios are wearing kinda thing these days.

On the upside, the cat is using her box like a pro (or, you know, like a regular cat) and Greta has declared me her “best friend” four days running, so, there’s always that…

Coney Island Meltdown

OK, I know that many of you are gonna blame what I am about to describe on Greta’s lack of normal sleep the past few days, and you might be right, but I am laying the blame squarely in the terrible twos category. That said, let me tell ya what happened.

It was day two of our adventures in NYC, Greta and I got our usual late start, grabbed some breakfast and then hopped on the subway’s N line to the last stop, Coney Island! Mrs. Yeti didn’t have any real interest in coming with us — and, I’ll admit it, the hour-long train ride there is no picnic — so, we planned this adventure for a day when she was working.

And what an adventure it was, chili dogs and fresh lemonade at the first Nathan’s Hot Dog stand in the country, cotton candy, kiddie rides for $3.00 a pop, and all the beautiful, old-school boardwalk and beach you could stomach. It was awesome! Yeah, some of the neon is definitely faded and the place is a little sketchy in spots, but, the people working there were great and we had a blast. Until the sun started going down…

I dunno what happened to her, but, after one final ride on the merry-go-round, Greta went, I believe the clinical term for it is, ape-shit crazy. She started screaming that she wanted to ride more rides (which was literally impossible since I had no more cash on me) and then ran off in the direction of the Bumble Bee ride, which was her favorite.

I picked her up, she hit me. I threw her over my shoulder to carry her, she kicked me. It was crazy, but, it was getting dark and I knew we had a long-ass train ride back to the city, so, I needed her to behave. Of course, that’s what made her more determined than ever not to!

So, we start heading to the subway station, her screaming bloody murder, me trying to stuff her into her stroller and all of our crap toppling over every time she kicks herself free of it. And for the next five or ten minutes on that boardwalk, I was “that Dad” and she was “that toddler”, duking it out like a couple of wild, red-faced hillbillies.

I swear to God, EVERYONE within listening distance stopped to watch the bad dad trying to get his hell child to bend to his will and obey him. At one point, I literally did not know what to do. She had knocked my hat and sunglasses off, the stroller was laying on it’s side and she was kicking and screaming so wildly that I almost couldn’t hold her. I’ve been at “this job” for two-plus-years now, and trust me, I’ve never seen a meltdown like this…it was brutal.

I tried reasoning with her, I tried spanking her, I tried changing the subject — you know, talking about the good times we’d had that day, her favorite movies, how nice our male maid was at the hotel, anything — but, nothing worked. And then, I spotted a “Dunkin’ Donuts” across the street and in a desperate, last-ditch effort to change the subject, I found a subject we could both agree on. “Hey, you want a donut?” I panted as she flailed in my arms.

Suddenly, she stopped cold and said, in a totally calm voice: “Yes, I want a donut.” And just like that, the tears and craziness melted away. She sat down in her stroller (even buckling herself in) and we crossed the street and got a donut for her and a big-ass iced coffee with extra Valium for me.

Whew…what a day…