Tightening Our Belts

It's been a tough year, financially speaking, for most Americans, and our family is no exception. Thankfully, Christopher is employed and we haven't faced home loss or any other monumental financial tragedy, but money's tight to say the least, especially making do on one income. We always keep Christmas small, but this holiday season, our family is tightening its belt even further, in the following ways:

• We're using our artificial tree again, despite the fact that we'd much prefer a live tree. You can't argue with saving anywhere from $20-50 by using the tree we already have in a box in the garage.

• We're cutting our holiday-card list down by 1/3 or more, sending mainly to relatives and long-lost friends who aren't blog-readers or Facebook friends and who therefore aren't in touch with us during the year. (Everyone else: please know this is no reflection on how much we love you, but merely a reflection on our checking account.)

• We're not giving baked goods and treats to all our neighbors, co-workers, and playgroup friends this year. I love doing this--I really do--but the grocery budget doesn't lie. Ingredients are expensive.
  

• We're--as always--limiting present-buying, recycling gifts when we can, and focusing more on holiday experiences than the number of objects under the tree. The other evening we enjoyed our town's quaint annual "Winter Walk," and I plan to take the girls ice-skating and sledding this month. We'll also be attending a preschool-benefit "Pancake Breakfast with Santa" and our town's youth choirs' Christmas concert next weekend with visiting grandparents. And, of course, there's always the drives around the neighborhood after dark to see the Christmas lights, walks in the falling snow, and singing carols at home. Experiences make better memories than toys, anyway, and they're often free.
  

• I'm shamelessly using some of the grandparents' gift/toy money to pay for my daughters' little-kid gymnastics classes this winter. It's the one activity they do besides school, it gives them exercise when we can't get outside to play, and it challenges them in important ways. It's also hard to afford on our household income alone. Thanks, grandmas and grandpas! I promise you this experience is just as, if not more, enjoyable and important for your granddaughters than another toy.

So what about all of you? Are any of you tightening your belts this holiday season? If so, in what ways? Does it disappoint you, or are you taking it in stride?

At Least I'm No Longer Sleeping on the Floor in the Hallway Outside Her Door, People.

The other day Christopher tried--once again--to switch Genevieve's crib over into a toddler bed. The child IS 39 months old, after all. Of course, come bedtime, she cried for her "cwib," and it was back to babyhood. This was attempt #4 at the Crib-to-Toddler-Bed Transition. Of course, since Genevieve has not been a good sleeper since was one year old (see: the months of April 2008 to September 2009. Especially autumn 2008 with its 5-10 night-wakings per overnight period), it's totally not worth it to argue this point and insist on having Genevieve give up her crib. What do we care? She still wears a diaper at night and is not yet able to wake up to use the bathroom, so she doesn't need to be able to get out of bed on her own. Still, I do wonder if she's setting some kind of record for Oldest Child Still Sleeping in a Crib. It strikes me as odd, sweet, and hilarious all at the same time.

Genevieve told me once that she's going to sleep in a crib until she's "a gwowm-up," but then later she amended it to age five, and then age four. She's not coming down any further, however. Negotiations have hit a stalemate. She's holding firm.

Thank Goodness for Sisters

During a lunchtime tantrum yesterday:

Me: Genevieve, Santa is paying attention to how you are acting right now.*

Genevieve (sobbing and wailing): He can't hear me!!!!

Me: YES HE CAN. And he's thinking about whether to fill your stocking on Christmas.**

Genevieve: WWWAAAAAAAHHHHH! (scream, wail, sob, sob.)

Julia: Genevieve, even if Santa doesn't put anything in your stocking on Christmas, I will put something in it for you. I will make you a paper heart.

Genevieve (sniffling, hiccuping, wailing): Thank you, Juliaaaaa!

Me: Sigh.

*Yes, I do pull out the Santa card. Shameless, I know.
**Yes, yes, I know, cruel. But sometimes necessary.

Do A Few Projects...

Yesterday after nap Julia was playing house with her doll, a grade-school-aged stuffed cloth doll with various kid outfits and accessories. As she changed the doll's clothes, she said to me nonchalantly, "My daughter is five. She goes to kindergarten. I work half-days, you know? And on Wednesdays I come home early!" (Wednesdays are Julia's real-life "early-release days," the day of the week when all the school-kids in our town get out a half-hour early so the teachers can do professional training.)

"That sounds perfect!" I told her. "You're lucky. I know an awful lot of moms who would love to find a job like that."

"Yeah," Julia said contentedly. She busied herself with her doll for a few minutes and then paused, glancing over at me conversationally and tipping her palms upward. "I just...go to work in the morning..." And here her voice took on a casual, singsong tone: "You know, do a few projects...have a snack...and then I leave!" She sighed and smiled, and got busy preparing her doll's toys and snacks.

I was left thinking, Now there's a job I could get behind. Doesn't it sound perfect? Go in, do a few projects--this part sounds so easy and enjoyable, doesn't it? As if the projects involve glitter and glue? or a little writing project with pencil and lined paper?--have a tasty snack, and go home by lunch, even earlier on Wednesdays? Ample time to balance work and family? With PAY?

Awesome. Save me a spot at that job, will you? In about fall 2011?

Separation Anxiety (Or: Yet Another Reason for Mama to Feel Guilty)

September, preschool orientation

Genevieve is going through some major separation anxiety. Last night she begged me not to go running while Daddy put her to bed. The other weekend Christopher had to stay with her at a close friend's birthday party (I was doing the Thanksgiving grocery shopping), even though it was a drop-off party and Julia was there too and she's known this family her whole life and sees them multiple times per week. But mostly, Genevieve cries about going to preschool.

Yes, even though for the entire months of September and October--to my great joy and relief--Genevieve ran happily into her nursery school classroom with a grin and a backward wave, now for some mysterious reason she has decided she does not like being there. Or, rather, about four weeks ago she decided this, and she has been crying about it ever since. There is no discernible explanation. No one is being mean to her. Her teachers are skilled and sweet. She has good buddies in her class. Nothing has changed at home or in her routine. When asked--prompted, probed, begged for a reason--she says things like, "I miss you, Mama," or "It's too long," or "I just want to be with you." I have talked with her teacher, at parent-teacher conferences earlier this fall, and we have yet to figure it out or solve it.

You have no idea how awful this feels. Or maybe you do, if you're a mom who's gone through it. I know Genevieve stops crying once I leave (the teachers tell me), but I think she's probably pretty sad most of the time she's there, even if the tears abate. I feel heartless leaving her at school when each morning she says, "I don't want to go to weschool." It's horrifying to hug her goodbye and watch her toddler face crumple--again! Every time! And, worst of all, I wouldn't have had to send her this year at all. She's a super-young three; I debated and debated whether to do nursery school this fall or wait a year. She could have easily spent another year home with me full-time. But part of me also knew how well she knew this school from bringing Julia there the past two years, and how she told me all summer she wanted to go, and how her best friends would be there, and how Genevieve is a really hard child to parent (though her teachers can't believe it, since she's utterly silent and compliant at school) and it would likely be good for my sanity to get a short break from her each week given the fact that I don't have any alternative resources for getting a break from her the other 163 hours of the week. I was THRILLED when the first two months of school went so great. It was unbelievable! There wasn't even a second of hesitation on her part, not a moment of fear or sadness from day one. She was ready and happy to go. Until about a month ago.

And here's the thing: there's nothing I can do to change things. I can't withdraw her; I am contractually obligated to pay tuition through the year, because my tuition pays the teachers' salaries. We are committed through May. I don't have the option of taking her out. Also, I have a really hard time believing that a few hours a week of away-from-Mama socialization and care isn't a good thing for a baby who's never been left anywhere. I mean, she's with me the other trillion hours out of the week; it's only five hours she's at this small, play-based nursery school. Think of all the children who are in daycare eight or nine hours per day from infancy on, or even how many children have babysitters at their homes for a few hours per week so Mom and Dad can have date night or Mom can run errands or do some part-time work. Three years old doesn't seem all that unreasonable an age to spend a few hours a week away from a parent.

Last night I had a terrible nightmare about Genevieve. She was kidnapped, and terrible things happened to her before she was returned to us. It was definitely the worst dream I have ever had in my life; far worse than anything I might have dreamed about my own safety before I became a mom. I know it's because my brain is preoccupied with concerns about her well-being, her fear of being apart from me even for a short time--even for a 40-minute run!

But the year has to go on; even if she cries every single day and it never stops, preschool continues, the rest of this year and then next year when she's four. I could take her out of preschool this year, but I'd owe $100 a month until May, for care she would no longer be getting. Who can afford that?

I made the decision to send her to school with the best information and knowledge I had at the time, and it was good information in the beginning. I had no way to know that by November Genevieve would be in tears about school; you should have seen her pride and excitement every day back then, when she'd bound into school! You would never have guessed she'd start to cry about it later.

As if I need anything more keeping me awake at night.

Blessings

Conversation at Thanksgiving dinner:

Me: You know, the most important thing about this day is thinking about the things you're most thankful for in life. I'm thankful for all of you, and that we're healthy, and that Daddy has a job that takes care of us and buys our home and clothes and food. What are you most thankful for?

Julia: My birthday.

Me: .....OK, that's nice. Can you think of anything else you might be thankful for?

Julia: Myself.

Me, in my head: What about THE MOTHER WHO WENT THROUGH 60 HOURS OF BACK LABOR TO GIVE BIRTH TO YOU, AND TOLERATES YOUR INSANE SOCK-CHANGING ROUTINES EACH AND EVERY DAY?! Good Lord in heaven, can we get any thankfulness for THAT?!

Ahem. I'm thankful my mysterious tailbone pain went away. Also that Julia's stomach bug only lasted a day and a half, and that though I was convinced I was catching it earlier today, I seem to be fine after all.

I'm also thankful that even slight hints of having caught your child's stomach bug give you free rein to skip any previously planned workouts for this evening and instead lie on the sofa watching cable TV while sipping ginger tea and eating pumpkin cheesecake pie. Because pie is restorative, right?

Favors, Blessings, and Pains in the...

So, Julia has a minor stomach bug. Other than a mild cold, she has not really been sick all autumn, and, sadly, this little virus chose to strike the very day we were set to host a kindergarten-friend playdate, for the very first time. Yes, I overcame my natural impulses toward social laziness and introversion, called up a mom I don't know, and invited her and her daughter over to our house to play, all because Julia talks about this little girl all the time and I kind of figured maybe I should do something about the fact that Julia has no friends from school.

Of course, that playdate has been rescheduled, and Julia is heartbroken. However, copious amounts of PBS Kids, plus Cinderella on videotape, is helping her get over her disappointment. Also the fact that a local friend, reading my complaints on Facebook, just dropped off an entire grocery bag full of games, books, finger puppets, and puzzles that her son has outgrown, for my homebound daughters' entertainment--and my sanity--today. Can you imagine? This is not even a close friend, but rather a fellow local mom, a kind acquaintance, someone who takes that adage "It takes a village...." seriously. This Thanksgiving week, I'm thankful for her and this extraordinarily kind gesture.

Overall, it's fair to say I'm very thankful for the blessings in my life. And, to be honest, I'm extremely thankful to not be going on a 300-mile road trip for Thanksgiving this year, the experience of which I find torturous given the fact that my children neither sleep in the car nor sleep well at other people's houses nor refrain from whining about being in the car from miles 3 to 300 on such road trips. GAH, ARGH, UGH, torture.

So, I'm thankful. I am. But, I volunteered at Genevieve's preschool yesterday morning and I am currently beset with frustration and weariness over her current separation anxiety and the way she cries every morning about going to nursery school. She does not like it there anymore, which is really making things difficult. I'm also weary of how she cries at the idea of going anywhere without me or Christopher (especially me), how she can't be dropped off for playdates or birthday parties anywhere even if Julia is with her, even if she's with my closest friend who has known her since the day she was born, and how the only place she wants to be is by my side or on my hip. It's not that I'm tired of her presence, but rather that I worry about how she's making her own life difficult with her sadness and anxiety. And how that makes things hard for me, too, because of course I worry about her and don't like to leave her at school if she feels sad and lonely there.

In TOTALLY unrelated, and possibly too-much-information news, I have been stricken with utterly mysterious tailbone pain. No, I have not fallen on my tailbone recently. I either have cancer of the tailbone, or I am an old decrepit lady who now develops random debilitating aches and pains without discernible cause, simply to make my life all the more interesting. Go, me. (Note: I really don't need my life to be more interesting.) Anyone with any insight into myterious sudden tailbone pain is free to enlighten me.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! Also, wishing a pain-free tailbone to you all.