Would you?

Would you be worried if you child's babysitter:

joked about your baby (who, admittedly, cries loud and long), saying, "With her, I know why there's shaken baby syndrome."

told you about your baby's crying jag, trailing off, "oh, baby, you're such a little pill....sometimes."

tearfully told you how she was fired from her former job (not babysitting, but an entirely different field), and included the words, "...and a year and a half later, I'm doing THIS..." (pointing to your living room floor).

while babysitting your child, updated her Facebook account with the words "I went to college for this!?!"

This is a person who is always on time, accommodating to your schedule, gets glowing reviews from other employers and by all appearances is kind, gentle and loving with your children.

There's no reason to suspect any wrong doing of any kind. There's just a feeling that maybe this isn't the exactly the right person for you right now.

The Smell of Failure Can Be Purchased at Bath & Body Works

You know what I've discovered? Mary Poppins doesn't exist. Really. I spent all this time searching for the perfect nanny/sitter for our little wonder girls and she doesn't exist. I'd go ahead and hire Julie Andrews because I think she's practically perfect in every way, but I think she charges a little more than $15 an hour. And she's booked. 'Til, like, 2020.

So we hired a sitter who said she was cool with our weird hours, agreed to no TV or video games, has lots of experience and doesn't smoke. Bug is OK with her and the sitter can tolerate Dos' loudest, most prolonged protestations. So far, so good.

But....

Two minor things:

First, she wears a TON of perfume or something equally stinky. For the record, I HATE scented lotions or perfumed body washes. Plus, heavy scents make me really Sneezy. The first couple of times Sitter came, I opened the windows to air the house out. It's too cold to do that now. Plus, she's holding Dos a lot and I can smell Sitter's perfume on the poor baby hours after she's gone. I have to change Dos' clothes and give her a bath when Sitter leaves. Blech. I can smell it now, just thinking about it.

It's more than just the strong aroma. It's the scent of failure to me. I smell that perfume and it says, "You CAN'T do it after all. Someone else has to take care of your baby. You left your baby with a stranger. A smelly stranger. YOU. FAILED." I know, right? I'm just being honest here.

Next, she's a real sitter. I mean, she just sits there. A lot. Bug needs to move. All kids do. Without some physical activity, they get crabby and whiny and become total pains in the ass. Dos is happy to crawl around a lot. Climbing on a parent, the sofa and pushing chairs around is a lot of physical exercise for her. But Bug needs to run! And JUMP! And RUN some more! She gets that a lot when Grinch and I are watching her, but Sitter just sits.

So.

Do I tell her she smells and sits around too much? I'd find a nicer way to say it of course. Maybe. Or should we just appreciate that she's not soused and locking the baby in the closet?

Have I mentioned that I hate confrontation? Mergh.

What would you do?

Checking In

Oh, hi! Remember me? Yes, the wayward blogger. Big on promises to share stories from my life, not so big on delivery. I'm new at this and I do have two full time jobs in real life. We're cool, right? Good.

One reason I've been blogquiet lately is that things have been very busy at home and work. I've also been feeling pretty gross and NO one wants to hear about that. Trust me. You do? Really? Can we just leave it at "scheduled colonoscopy"? Thanks.

It's also occurred to me that one reason for starting this blog was that I wanted to share details of our adventures/experiences as tag team parents and I haven't really done that. I hesitate to write about it now because I don't have a lot of good things to say. I don't want to scare anyone away from tag team parenting, but I guess I should be honest about it so that if you're thinking about doing it then you can go in with good information. Bottom line: tag team parenting sucks. Hard.

After the bug was born, we jumped into the ring feet first, fists pumping, determined to show all the nay sayers that it COULD be done and that we weren't crazy to take it on. We did that. The first few months were awful but after a while we hit our stride and everything worked nearly seamlessly. There were misunderstandings and miscommunications, I was tired all the time and seemed to catch every cold that went around but generally we did ok.

Then the schedule changed and everything went to hell.

If you're thinking about tag team parenting, let me urge you this: make sure you and your spouse have at least one day off together. It makes a huge difference. When I started working weekends (Not by choice. No fucking way.) it put an end to any adult time for the Grinch and I. No conversations, no movies, no cuddling. Is it any surprise that I got pregnant BEFORE the schedule change?

Working weekends also put an end to any "me" time. No workouts, no pedicures, no gardening, nada. I'm either at work, parenting or asleep. It's exhausting. Never mind the stupid hours.

When I went back to work after maternity leave for Bug, I cried on the way to work every day for a week because I was leaving this beautiful little baby who I loved so much and how could I leave herohmygoodness. This time around, I started crying two weeks before my return to work and pretty much haven't stopped crying since. Not only because of the beautiful baby factor, but "good lord I hate working overnights and never seeing my husband and it's been so nice seeing him and being a real family and I wish I could stay at home waaaaaahhhhhh. sniff."

I find myself aching to see Grinch, to get the chance to fall asleep in his lap again or nuzzle his neck. I want to spend quiet time reading to the Bug or putting her to bed instead of rushing off to bed myself. I want to feel rested more than one day a week. I want to feel like I have my act together instead of feeling like I'm a frazzled, barely washed, bumbling idiot. Harupmh. Want, want, want.

There are good reasons we do the tag team parenting thing. But I wonder if there are better reasons NOT to.

So far, So not so good

So what kind of blogger am I to tell you I'm about to embark upon a major life change, then disappear for a couple of weeks, no updates, no nothing? A sucky one. I know. Dude, I'm new at this ok? Slack, please. Looooooootsa slack.

Going back to the tag team schedule has been hard on everyone. Hard on Grinch because Dos isn't sleeping through the night and he has to figure out how to get her back to sleep without the benefit of lactating boobs.

Hard on the Bug because she'd love to go see her friends, but there's no time in the schedule to get her to play dates and because I have about 10 micrograms of patience left by the time I get home and those get sucked dry the first time she says no to the simplest request.

Hard on Dos because she's not a big fan of the bottle but, until Grinch lactates, the bottle is as good as its gonna get.

Hard on me because I get no sleep, the whole time I'm at work I worry about what's going on at home and when I come home all I want to do is sleep but there are diapers to change, lunches to fix, groceries to buy, dinners to fix, kitchens to clean and laundry to do. (Did you notice there is no time in there to blog? See. I'm doin' stuff.)

Also, the no sleep thing? It makes me kinda crabby. Which is to say that it actually makes me very crabby but this is my blog and I'm not gonna just lay it out there that I'm an insufferable bitch. Which I kinda just did.

Grinch has tried to put it in the nicest terms what sleep deprivation does to me. "I don't like the effect it has on you." he says. (Translation: "You're an insufferable bitch. More so than usual.") He also says it's not worth it to him, the toll it takes on me, on him, on the family.

Sitting here with a splitting headache, dark circles under my eyes, unwashed hair and unpumped boobs, I'm starting to agree. I just have a hard time admitting it to myself. I have a hard time letting go. I'm having a hard time giving up.

Hi-Ho, Hi-Ho...

...it's off to work I go tomorrow morning, bright and early. I've been crying and muttering under my breath for a week now. Ok, two, but who's counting?

I love what I do, I love my co-workers and I'm proud of the company that employs me. I just wish things were different for us. I wish I didn't HAVE to go back to work. I wish we could have everything we need AND want on one income. Hell, I wish we could do it without working at all. But like they say on the farm: "Shit in one hand, wish in the other. See which one fills up first." Yeah. See which one they accept as tuition payment at your kid's private school, too.

So, if you see a 39-year-old woman, drivin' and cryin' downtown VERY early tomorrow morning, be nice. That's me.

***Edited to add: this is how much I'm dreading going back to work. I actually go back to work Wednesday. Yet another full day to moan, gripe and weep. Yay!

Well, hell.

This happens to me a lot: I panic at the thought of something, or get mad, irritated, upset, irate, etc...then change my way of thinking, get excited or happy about it and then find out it's not going to happen after all.

I spent a lot of sleepless nights, staring at the ceiling or the baby, thinking, "Good, god. Could I really be a stay at home mom? Me? What about my career?" I talked to friends and family. I googled. I prayed. I worried, worried, worried and LORD did I cry. Then one day, the sun shone and I thought, "Yeah. I could do this. I'd actually LIKE to do this. This is what I want to do. I'll DO IT!" And I walked around with the glow of someone who has made a life-changing decision.

For about a week.

Then, Grinch ran the numbers. He ran them about a dozen different ways and they all come up the same: we can't afford it. We can't afford for me to stay at home, raise two of the most delightful little girls on the planet AND put them into the schools of our choice. We're going to be a tag team again. A sleepless, never-see-each-other, do-most-of-our-communicating-via-email tag team.

Cue the tears. Again. And throw in a pint or two of bitterness and frustration.

I don't get it, really. We're not stupid. We have good jobs. We earn good money. So how do so many people around us do it? How do they do it on one income, send the kids to private schools, drive super nice cars to elegant homes where they watch gigantic flat screen TVs and play Wii? HOW? We have none of those things by choice (TV free family. Hi, there.) and by force (I'd like the elegant home, thank you.)

I'm trying not to be angry. Anger doesn't help anything. I'm sad and scared. We've always said that if the tag team schedule doesn't work, if it threatens our marriage, then we do something else. Hire a sitter, go part time, whatever. It just...sucks. But I guess we're back to where we started: hating the idea before I ever even get a chance to try it on. Time to get excited and put my head back in the right place. Work is waiting for me. My family needs me, too.

Growing up sucks.

Decisions, Decisions

I'm really, really bad at making decisions. REALLY bad. For the most part, my decisions usually turn out to be good ones, but its taken me forever and a day to reach my conclusion and act on it. Also, the really bad decisions haunt you. Mine sound like my mother, "Well, remember what happened the last time you...."

I'm really struggling with the decision to become a stay-at-home mom or go back to work. Actually, the decision has pretty much been made, it's acting on it that's freaking me out. I've made some moves, placed some calls, but nothing is formal. No, I'm not telling you. Not yet, anyway. Dude, I didn't tell anyone I was pregnant 'till I was six-months along. You think I'm gonna bust out a major life change on the internet just like that. Come oooooonnnnn. You gotta know me better than that.

I will say that my decision making process always involves a lot of talking to and with friends, polling them about similar decisions they've made, asking for advice and guidance. I have to say: this time around, I've received some of the best advice, and been lent the most sympathetic, compassionate ears ever known. If you're one of those people who's listened to me whine, vent and cry over this, Thank You. If I haven't done it already, I hope to be as good a friend to you one day.

In other news, Dos is snugglier than ever. She's sleeping in her bassinet more and more, which means Grinch may actually be able to sleep in our bed again one day. Bug is finally over the creeping crud, or toddler Ebola or whatever it was she had. Grinch is over it, too, though you wouldn't know it from his coughing, moaning, and vitamin C popping. (Love you, honey! Smooches!)

Also, I told two close friends that I have a blog, but they didn't ask for the URL and I didn't offer so I still have exactly two readers and why does that surprise me? Duh. This explains why I am not in sales. I'll bet I couldn't sell Girl Scout Cookies.
Wealthy Aunt or Uncle: "I wonder where I can buy some Thin Mints."
Me: "I'm a Girl Scout."
Wealthy Aunt or Uncle: "Oh, really?"
Me: "Yes."
Wealthy Aunt or Uncle: "Mmm, hmm."


Finally, I went to the doctor and she says I'm okie dokie. I even broke down crying in front of her over this decision stress. She patted my leg, passed me some tissues and was very sympathetic, but the Post Partum Depression issue never came up. Did I ask about it? Hell, no. Why? Because after working in a pharmacy for a dozen years, I grew wary of people who came in with scrips for ailments they didn't seem to really have. Happy pills was all they wanted. Plus, of all the people I know who take anti-depressants (and strangely, I know a LOT), none of them seem particularly happy to me. So Prozac, Lexapro, Paxil and all the others can claim to make people feel better, but their walking, talking advertisements convince me otherwise. I'm sure it works for some people, but I haven't seen it yet.

Ruminating

We're still talking about our tag team status and nothing has been decided. Remember what I said about us being master procrastinators in this house? Yeah, it's for real.

More and more I'm thinking that I could and should become a stay at home mom. I don't have the passion for my work that I once did. The hours can be a killer. Maternity leave has given me a chance to get reacquainted with the best husband in the world. I'm learning to love the time I spend at home with the Bug and Dos is finally starting to emerge from the squirmy-sleep-all-the-time-not-much-fun infant stage.

BUT....I've been earning my own money since I was 14. I've been working on my career since I was 17. I've been in my current job for 10 years. I've been in the industry for 20. I have a fantastic retirement plan and good benefits. I really, really, really like my team at work. That kind of stuff makes it hard to just pick up and walk away. Makes it hard for me, anyway.

The only person to comment on my last question opined that I might be suffering from post-partum depression. Don't think it hasn't occurred to me, too. I see my doctor on Monday. I'll try to work up the courage to say something then. I'm a chicken though, and I don't want to whine. I also don't want to look for a pill to solve all my problems. Ok, this subject is a whole 'nother post.

Dos is stirring in the swing. Bug is sniffling from a bad cold but reading quietly to herself in her bed. Grinch has gone to his parent's house to convalesce (they're out of town, so he can moan and groan in peace) He's caught a nasty case of the bug's creeping crud. This is a tough day, but I'm ok. Everyone has survived through nap time and that's all I can ask. We'll get through the afternoon, evening and do it all over again tomorrow. One day at a time.