Back on Track

It took me a long time to push the publish button on this one.  But here goes...

Have you ever had one of those days when you feel like you're mediocre at a whole bunch of things but great at nothing? 

That was me yesterday.

The house is picked up, but far from clean.  We were fed, but it consisted of leftovers and cereal.  It happens from time to time, no big deal, but for some reason I was really bothered by it last night.

I slept on it and I think it's just the culmination of a stressful few weeks that has me a little off kilter.  Not to get all psychoanalytical, but I think I have a tendency to be so consumed with being everything for everybody...that I forget about me.

Drew ended up in the hospital a few weeks ago and has since had a myriad of tests to try to get to the bottom of things - and we're not done yet.  He's good now.  It's nothing serious and the scary stuff has been ruled out.  I put on a super brave face, but goddammit if I wasn't pretty freaked out when the nurse asked about living wills and the doctor mentioned blood transfusions.  And why is it that every time someone is sick, and you're not quite sure why, that damn cancer word keeps popping into your mind? 

Jack is the absolute light of my life but gosh darn if the kid doesn't wear me out.  He needs something every. single. minute.  He talks constantly.  And bedtime?  The success story from last week is already ancient history.  Little bugger played us like a fiddle.  He cashed in his reward and hasn't had a successful bedtime routine since.  We're right back to either falling asleep in bed with him and losing the entire evening or fighting with him until 10:00 when we all give up and crash.  I know this too shall pass, but sometime soon would be nice. 

And then there's me.  You guys already know about my fertility struggles and PCOS.  As a result, my hormones are unpredictable to say the least.  Strangely, birth control pills can be helpful in leveling things out.  However, after struggling so many years to have Jackson and knowing that we want more children, taking birth control is kind of counter-productive.  Instead, I just deal with the unpredictable (which usually means nonexistent) monthly cycles that are a textbook symptom of PCOS.  Until February when my body did a complete 180 and is now pretty much living in a constant state of "cycle".  Not cool.  And annoying.  To say the least.  So there's that.

And that, my friends, is why I've felt a bit out of sorts around here.  And now I've aired my dirty laundry for the inter webs to read.

Blogging is such a strange thing.  I started this blog to journal about my pregnancy.  I kept it going to record the milestones of my son's life and share them with our long-distance family and friends.  Somewhere along the way it became my own personal journal of sorts.  A place to dump my thoughts and clear my head.  Not to mention an amazing record of this time in our lives that I know I will cherish one day. 

The problem is, I'm not the only one who reads it.  And I'd be lying if I said that wasn't on my mind every time I write.  Which is why this post in particular was such an internal struggle for me.

I've tried hard not to make The Elser 411 just a superficial look at all that's wonderful in our lives.  After all, that wouldn't be reality.  But I'm also not as brave as some of my other favorite bloggers, like this one who doesn't hesitate to bash her in-laws or talk about sex.  I can't help but worry about the ramifications of my words.  Will Drew misunderstand me if I mention feeling under appreciated?  Maybe he'd prefer I kept his medical information private.  Do my frustrations with our three-year-old make me sound ungrateful?  If I write about being stressed out will my Mom worry unnecessarily?  Despite how much it's been on my mind lately, will I ever be brave enough to actually write about our sex life?  And oh my gawd I just told you about my period!  *GASP*

I apologize for over sharing.  But I have to say, I think writing this all down - putting it somewhere other than just in my head - is more therapeutic than I give it credit for.  I really do feel better.  And I'm looking forward to this weekend.  We have no plans which means I have 2 full days to get myself organized and create some order in my life.  It's no secret that I'm at my best when I have order! 

If nothing else, this exercise reminded me that I don't have to be everything to everybody all the time. 

Sometimes just being me is enough.

And sometimes a message from someone you love is all it takes to get back on track.

All By Myself

The good news is:

My business trip is going really well. 
And all reports from home indicate that Jackson is having a blast with his Nana.
And it's in the upper 70's and sunny here in South Florida.
And this is the view from my balcony.

The bad news is:

I'm all by myself.

Today was the day Drew was supposed to play The Champion Course at PGA National (home of the PGA Tour's Honda Classic in just 3 weeks).  Tomorrow is the evening we set aside for date night at Morton's. 

Did I mention I'm all by myself?

Major bummer.

Keeping it Together

Barely.  Like, hanging by a thread.

This time of year is always busy stressful insane at work.  I'm used to that part.  I'm an event planner.  My job is logistics and logistics means details.  So at any given time (particularly the week before our annual event) there are millions of details swimming in my head.  From flights to ground transportation to room set-up to signage to audio visual equipment to food & beverage to hotel room blocks.  Then there's the tournament portion which requires tee prizes, pairings, flighting and scoring.  But like I said, I'm used to that part.

What I'm not used to is all of the preparation involved with leaving my 2-year old for 10 days.  As soon as I think I've got a grip on all of the work logistics, another hundred things pop in my head on the home front. Never mind the obvious stuff like jotting down Jack's favorite foods, school schedule or the bedtime routine.  I'm talking about random stuff.  Like remembering to show Mom how to work the car seat. Or telling her which mailbox is ours.  Or writing down the security code to get into Princeton. Or remembering to leave Jack's insurance card somewhere handy - god forbid it become necessary.  You know, that kind of stuff.

I know, I know...much of this is self-inflicted pressure.  Drew is perfectly capable of taking care of both Jackson and the household with no instruction from me.  And my Mom is familiar enough with our house and our routine to do just fine on the days she's here as well.  But I will not be comfortable getting into the town car on Sunday morning if the house is not in order, detailed instructions are not left and a suggested menu is not created - if not already waiting in the freezer.  A bit over the top?  Perhaps.  But true none the less.

The thing is, I was on track.  I had all weekend to get myself in order.  Figure out what to pack.  Drop off the dry cleaning.  Run to the Gap for a new pair of khakis.  Freeze a few meals.  Start typing up those instructions. 

Then the boys got sick.  Both of them.  Jack with a stomach thing (he's good now) and Drew with a horrible ear infection (he's still recovering).  And I accomplished nothing.  In fact, I feel like I lost ground.

Did I mention I too have been fighting a cold? 

And that I already miss my little boy and I haven't even left yet?

Not a bad little pity party I just threw, eh? 

Guess it's time to pick myself up by the boot straps and forge ahead.  Will it all get done eventually?  Probably.  Will everybody do just fine with or without my detailed instructions and frozen meals?  Totally.  And in the mean time, am I keeping it together?

Barely.

Princeton: Day 9

We still have tears.  Every morning.  Some days more than others.  But we're getting there, I think.

There are some bright spots. 

While he still cries when I leave every morning, it's not the heart-wrenching screams of "Ma Ma!" while being pried off my body of week 1.  (Ugh.  I get a lump in my throat just thinking about those first couple of days!)  And the pouty lip and sniffles no longer appear when we turn onto Peterson Road - about 3 blocks from the center.  In fact, he now willingly walks right into the classroom and chats with me the entire way.  It's not until I make my exit that the tears start.  And I'm told they don't last more than 5 minutes anymore.  So we're getting there.

On Monday, his afternoon teacher told me he was doing fabulous.  She mentioned that he now has the routine mastered.  He seems happy, playful, independent and is eating and napping well.  I mentioned that the morning drop-offs were still a little tough for him and she said she would never know that by his behavior during the day.  That sure made me feel good.

Then we'll have a set-back. 

Yesterday, I arrived shortly before 5:00 to a crying Jackson.  He'd had a rough afternoon and was crying off and on and asking for me.  Breaks my heart.  This morning's drop off was a bit more dramatic than usual as well.

I think I have it figured out.  This is not a one-woman operation.  It's a daycare center.  While each classroom has a "lead teacher" and some regulars, there is a large support staff that often rotates between classrooms.  Jackson has only ever known Miss Holly.  Sure there were lots of other kids there, but Miss Holly was the constant.  While he's figured out the daily routine at "school", I think he is still adjusting to the revolving door of new faces.  It makes sense that until he starts to recognize all the faces as familiar, he'll be a bit uneasy. 

That's my theory anyway.  As this week Miss Kelly, the lead teacher, is on vacation so there have been a lot of new faces in the room.  Yesterday in particular (which was the rough afternoon) was a whole new group of people for Jackson - which must have had him a little weirded out.

So we soldier on.

It really is getting better.  There are so many things about it that we love.  And I am encouraged that when at home, Jackson is his usual funny, good-natured, easy-going, happy self.  I would be extremely worried if his demeanor or behavior at home was changing as a result of the daycare transition, but that has not been the case at all.

I'm sure it's just a matter of time.  But boy will I be glad when this phase is behind us!

Frayed

That would be my nerves right now.  It's been a long day.

Poor Jackson has a nasty cough and runny nose that kept him up all night last night.  Poor Mommy was up with him. 

That left an overly tired and still slightly under the weather little boy to contend with today.  And to make matters worse, I discovered a molar peeking through this afternoon.  Which means on top of the cold, we also have teething issues.

Needless to say, day 6 of our 6-day staycation was a stressful one.

Despite being exhausted, his total nap time today was 15 minutes.   It seemed everything we attempted either resulted in tears or temper tantrums (Jackson's, not mine, although I was close to both on several occasions). 

I managed to channel the necessary patience to get through the day; afterall, it's not Jackson's fault he doesn't feel well.  But at this moment, even the slightest mis-step is likely to send me over the edge.  (I wonder if that's why Drew & Ruby are currently at the opposite end of the house.)

Since sitting down to write this post, I have had to stop twice to soothe a crying Jackson back to sleep.  Which doesn't give me much confidence that I'll actually sleep through the night tonight.

There is not a single second of motherhood that I haven't cherished.  But some days are definitely harder than others.

The Fever

Cabin fever that is. Jackson & I both have it.

We haven't left the house since December 23rd. We haven't really seen Drew since Christmas day. And we're crabby (especially me).

While we still haven't made an official decision about whether or not we'll go to Denver, it's looking less likely with each passing day. The roads are getting better, but the temperatures are staying so cold that side streets, parking lots, driveways, etc. are not melting. Which means there is still shoveling, plowing, sanding and ice melt work for Drew and his crews. Then there's the billing. At least a day's worth of office work once they rule the clean-up phase done. From a business perspective, this is a good thing. We're talking some MAJOR billable dollars here. But from a selfish personal perspective, this snow is really pissing me off!

Most of all, I'm just frustrated with the unknown. If I'm going to be here all week, then I should grocery shop. Start taking down Christmas decorations. Do a few projects (maybe clean some closets, organize Jackson's toys, etc.) But if there is still a chance we might get on the road, I certainly don't want a fridge full of groceries and a half-started project. Besides, I've got Jack home with me and no hubby to help out (at no fault of his) so a simple project will likely become a 2 day affair.

Do you see why I'm frustrated?

On the bright side, we have the Elser family Christmas to look forward to on Wednesday. And I plan to get out of the house this afternoon. Drew warned me that the roads are still horrible, but I figure he's just a phone call away with his plow and chains if I get stuck. We need to get out of here. And a Target run typically works wonders in lifting my spirits.

I'm also anxious to take Jackson out in the snow. I've been holding off in hopes that Drew will get a long enough break to join us. Jack's got all the gear and a new sled from Santa ready and waiting.

Okay, enough of my pity party. Actually I'm starting to feel better already. Maybe that fever is starting to break.

Recharged

September 2009 did not start off so well.

Jackson had a couple of rough days at daycare. He refused to nap, was consistently fussy and basically put Holly's nerves to the test (which, I'm happy to say, she passed). The culprit - 2 new teeth. Eye teeth in fact, which I hear are some of the harder ones to cut. Yep, my baby boy now has FOUR teeth!

I received some bad news at work. The dollars and cents of the bottom line (our operating budget has decreased from $20 million to $16 million over the past year) finally required some pretty dramatic action. 8 people were unexpectedly laid off. 5 vacant positions are not going to be filled. 2 furloughs were implemented for the remaining staff (read: 7 days of mandatory unpaid leave). Very dark days in our building.

Drew & I have been extremely fortunate to remain relatively unaffected by the recession we are all living in. I feel blessed to have a job. I feel blessed that my husband has a job. I will gladly take 7 days of unpaid leave if it means keeping my job and helping my company position itself to come out on the other side of this thing. But my heart absolutely aches for my colleagues that were not so lucky.

The combination of my fussy baby and a shitty week at work resulted in me accomplishing absolutely zero around the house. We had no decent groceries and were eating out a lot (not a good idea for a budget that is about to shrink). The laundry/ironing pile was getting out of control. Every piece of furniture was coated in a layer of dust. I can't remember the last time I scrubbed my kitchen floor. Not major catastrophes by any means, but things felt very unorganized in my world. And for me unorganized is bad. Very, very bad.

So I took it out on my husband.

Not intentionally. In fact, I didn't fully realize it until right this very minute. But I can admit it now.

I have this thing about asking for help. I'm not very good at it. Instead, I was making little digs all week. Snide comments here and there to empahsize how much more I do around the house than Drew. I mean, he had three tee times this weekend. When do I get to leave the house and do something by myself for 4-5 hours at a time? (See what I mean about the snide comments?) Well, my comments didn't go unnoticed. Drew as much as told me so when we were "discussing" those tee times and he said, "Don't think I haven't noticed all of your little digs".

Oh.

My reply, "I don't care if you golf Monday morning. But when you get home I could use some help around here."

Who knew all I had to do was ask. The minute Drew got home from the golf course we discussed my to-do list. And we split it. He scrubbed the kitchen floor. He cleaned the bathrooms. He finished the laundry. I loaded up Jackson and did the Target and grocery store runs. (Believe it or not, the kid is pretty content cruising around a store in a shopping cart.) When I got home, Drew unloaded the car while I fed Jackson. I put the groceries away. We cooked dinner together. Just like that we accomplished nearly everything on the to do list.

I learned 2 lessons.

1. It's much easier to just ask for help when you need it. The little digs do nothing but provide ammunition for a future explosion.

2. There aren't many things sexier than a man who will scrub your kitchen floor and clean your bathrooms. (Hear that, honey?) *wink*

And just like that, despite the crappy start to September 2009, I feel recharged. We had a marvelous holiday weekend. The weather was perfect. We enjoyed the first tailgate of the season. We attending the 1st birthday party of a very dear friend (I will post on that occasion soon). The house is clean. The cupboards are stocked.

I feel organized again. Which means all is right in my world.

Running on Fumes

This week, I feel totally unequipped as a parent.

We're trying really hard to get Jackson on a consistent schedule - particularly a bedtime routine. To date we've pretty much let him dictate, well, everything. But it's time to establish a more consistent routine. Kids need structure. I need structure. It's time for some structure.

Step one was moving him to his crib. That part was easy. In fact, the first night he slept 5 1/2 hours in one stretch. I thought we were golden. I was wrong. Since that night, he has progressively slept shorter and shorter stretches - leading us to last night where we saw every hour on the clock. Ouch.

We started the bedtime routine at 8:00 pm. Put on jammies, read books, nursed and then to bed. He woke up at 9:00 but was easily soothed back to sleep. He woke up again at 12:30. It had been 4 1/2 hours since his last feeding, so he ate and went right back to sleep. From then on we saw every hour. He would wake up crying but was not hungry. Once we picked him up he would fall asleep easily on our shoulder and go right back to bed. Only to wake up 45 minutes later and repeat. He's never been successful at putting himself to sleep - something I want him to learn so badly but have no idea how to teach him.

I've analyzed it to death. Maybe he needs to eat more during the day so he doesn't wake up hungry. Should I increase his ounces? We're very close to starting cereal - will that help fill his tummy and make him sleep longer? Maybe we need to shorten his morning nap. He's been drooling and chewing on his fist an extra lot lately - could he be teething already? He loves tummy to tummy contact - dare I break the "back to sleep" rule and put him on his tummy now that he has good head control? Maybe he's having a growth spurt. Maybe he's cold. Maybe it was just an off day.

I have no answers. And frankly, I'm tired of thinking about it. But most of all...I'm just tired.

Countdown

This is it. My last week home with Jackson.

My emotions are pretty much all over the place. The professional woman in me is looking forward to getting back to the working world. Having adult interaction on a daily basis, tackling new projects, changing up some things in my new position - one that I didn't really get to dive into prior to maternity leave. Yet the mother in me is horrified at the thought of leaving my baby.

Intuitively, I know that Jackson will be fine. He will be in good hands and will learn a lot of valuable skills and lessons at day care. Going back to work does not make me any less of a mother, in fact, it may make me a better one.

But that doesn't change the fact that I will miss him, and moments like the one below, desperately.