Hobson's Choice
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I'm back.
The last time I went so long without an entry, I was pregnant, so just a note to reassure my dear readers that this time, I have just been busy and winterized.
I forget what winter does to a person until spring returns and overnight I'm leaping out of bed in the morning, turning off the television, and digging in the garden.
Meanwhile, despite all my protestations that daycare is wonderful (in the abstract), I find myself wracked by guilt because Eleanor is now going to a babysitter every Thursday so that I can get more work done. And not only get more work done, but take on more work and more projects because in fact, I love working. I love a nice tidy product. In the abstract, I remind myself that Eleanor is enjoying herself at Ms. Bethany's, that she's learning how to get along with other children, that she enjoys meeting and interacting with new people.
But all morning: guilt. I've decided that guilt is just part of this job of being a parent. I like to think of it that way, as a job, with perks and pains just like any other. Whereas the pain of some jobs is the requirement that you iron your clothes, the pain of motherhood is constant guilt, earned or not.
Meanwhile, Chris reports that Eleanor told another child at the playground, "Excuse me, but I need to go down the slide first." The other night, she told him "I am never taking a bath." She tells me, "Pappy got me a Big Bird cup because he knows how much I love Sesame Street." And she has taken to referring to one of the horde of Big Bird dolls as "my son." "I am the mommy and Daddy is the daddy. Mommy is the mommy, too," she reports of her new offspring. And she told him, "My son. I'm so happy you're here" the other night when I put them to bed together.
The language explosion heats up into overdrive, and it is surely only a matter of days before all our family secrets are loudly proclaimed at every social gathering. Note to self: Remember to spell all critical comments about our near and dear ones. But oh yes, the other day when I expressed a desire that Chris were a better speller so that he and I were better at covert communications, Eleanor announced: "Daddy _does_ so spell very well."
12:57 p.m. - 2005-03-31
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