Urban Mama

Sleepaway Newbies

This is my daughter looking sweaty. This is not my daughter's bed. It's her very first overnight camp bed, and I have to admit I was more nervous than she at drop off yesterday. We may or may not have been one of the last parents off the lot (hey, we had TWO kids to settle in, since her older brother is also at camp). I know she's going to have an amazing time and will regale me with endless stories when we pick her up on Saturday, but part of me can't believe she's a) old enough to go to camp and b) brave enough to have asked to go (we were just going to send big brother and have her join the little brother at Grandparent Camp aka Noodle Camp). I hope they both make great friends and lifelong memories.

 

 

As for me, I'm spending my very first day kidless and fancy free... babysitting for my bestie's boys for a few hours. Does that sound ridiculous? Probably, but we all do crazy things for our closest firends.

And Then There Was One: Two Go Back to School

Today was the first day of school. The Schmoop (left, in his "awesome" Darth Vader backpack) started third grade, and my sassy girl the Schmoopette started kindergarten. It wasn't as emotional a morning as I expected, mostly because the Schmoopette didn't seem frightened, and because the Schmoop is an amazing older brother who helped her on the bus and told her exactly what to do. It was quite touching, actually, considering how combative those two can get with each other.

As I waved goodbye, I said a silent prayer for them to be strong, independent, enthusiastic learners this year. I want my son to continue to fall in love with books -- even if it means it's all Hogwarts and Greek mythology and silly boy-comics all the time here -- and to strengthen his friendships and to have a crush on his beautiful teacher. I want him to run and play and not feel like he has to be the most aggressive kid in P.E. or recess, because it's just not him, nor should it have to be. He is a sweet and cheerful kid. He's excited and empathetic and kind and once said he wished he could grow up and become a doctor so he could make his Abuela better. He is just a delightful son, and I couldn't get by (literally) without his help. What a blessing of an oldest child.

I want my daughter to learn to read, something she has struggled with but that I haven't pushed. I want her to stay confident and brassy (well, maybe not too brassy) and the social butterfly she's been since she was two. She will move mountains one day. She will make others fall to their knees in awe of her fiery spirit, her beauty and fierce intelligence.

I got emotional after they left, but not because I was worried about them. I cried, because I missed my mother. Unlike my sweet but a bit out-of-touch in-laws, she would not have needed to be called and TOLD it was their first day of school. Mami would've known. She would've been the one to buy the Schmoop his backpack or the Schmoopette her special first-day-of-school outfit. She would've been on the phone with me by 10AM to find out how their send-off went, and to make jokes about the kind of trouble the Schmoopette is going to cause me in the possibly very near future.

I think maybe it's time for me to attend a grief support group again if my grief is hijacking what's supposed to be a post about my children starting school. It's just that every milestone of theirs is also a reminder of a milestone Mami has missed. So when my husband arrived home and suggested we call his parents and fill them in on the kids' first day, I wasn't that interested. I didn't stop him, of course, but I got up and left the room. My kids are lucky to have grandparents on one side, but I selfishly can't stand that it's not my parents who the kids were calling.

This post was inspired by my volunteer participation in the Yahoo! Motherboard.

The Big "V"

Most of you who know us are probably thinking the "V" in question refers to a certain little procedure that would ensure we remain a family of five. But in fact, I'm referring to probably the funniest conversation my husband (or I!) has ever had with one of our kids. Behold, a transcription of a recent talk he had with the Schmoopette, age three-and-three-quarters, while giving her a bath.

Schmoopette: "Daddy, boys have penises and girls have cho-chos."
Husband: "Yes, boys have penises and girls have vaginas."
Schmoopette: "Do I have to say vagina?"
Husband: "Well no. Vagina is usually what grown-ups say, though."
Schmoopette: "When I'm a grown-up, I'm going to have a biiiiiiiig vagina!"

--Silence--

Schmoopette: "Daddy, will I have hair on my vagina?"
--Pause--
Husband: "Yes, most women do"
Schmoopette: "When will I start to have hair on my vagina?"
--Pause--
Husband: "I think when you're a teenager"
Schmoopette: "Does V [13-year-old cousin] have hair on HER vagina?"
Husband: "Um..."
--Pause--
Husband: "It's not nice to talk about other people's private parts"
Schmoopette: "OK, Daddy!"

--Silence--

Who else thinks my husband deserves a medal for the way he handled this conversation without screaming for my help in the bath or quickly changing the subject? Go, Daddy!

Remembering Scary Ultrasounds

When I was pregnant with my daughter three years ago, I had a series of scary ultrasounds full of "soft markers" -- the kind of minor warning signs that instantly make sonographers go quiet and immediately call in the doctor. I detailed those ultrasounds here and here and ever since have received a relatively steady flow of emails from concerned expectant mothers and fathers undergoing the same nerve-wracking process of wondering whether their babies are healthy.

The Schmoopette's markers included mild ventriculomegaly ("A normal lateral ventricle is not much larger than 7.5-8 mm. Anything over 10 but less than 15 mm is considered mild ventriculomegaly. Well, the Schmoopette's right ventricle measures at 9 mm and the left at a troubling 12 mm."); choroid plexus cyst in her brain; and an echogenic intracardial focus (looks like a bright spot on the heart). On their own, each of these markers isn't an issue, but together they ring the alarm bell for "something could possibly be wrong with your baby." In most cases, more ultrasounds and even an amnio are the advised course of action, even if, to put it bluntly, you are beyond the second trimester cutoff for termination.

I am revisiting this painful time in my last pregnancy, because I want to let all of those parents who find my posts in Google searches for those rare medical terms know that my daughter was born healthy. She had no chromosomal abnormalities, and each of the markers self corrected/disappeared. She did have a head sono shortly after birth and again at three months, but both showed normal ventricular size.

That being said, I know how blessed my husband and I are that she is fine. One mother who emailed me from Britain was not so lucky. Her hopes and dreams for a "just fine" outcome were dashed when two separate OB specialists confirmed that her baby had devastating chromosomal problems. He would not survive the pregnancy, even, so the doctors recommended termination. It was a heartbreaking outcome, and I felt awful at my presumptuous email saying "it will all be OK; you'll see."

The truth is, I have no idea if someone else's identically troublesome ultrasound will result in an identically happy outcome, just as I had no clue as I pushed my daughter out if she would have some rare genetic disease that the amnio didn't test for... I was so scared, and I join these Internet-searching parents-to-be in their doubt, their sleepless nights, their heartbreak of not knowing. I can only tell them that my pregnancy, my baby, my child was alright in the end. But that's just me and my story.

And for those of you wondering, I had my 20-week ultrasound two weeks ago, and this baby had NO markers at all. I even made the sonographer double check the ventricles and the heart, and he/she is A-OK. I cried in the car afterward, grateful not to have to worry right now, even though as we all know, there are no guarantees.

My Big Girl

We celebrated the Schmoopette's birthday this evening, even though she's not technically three until tomorrow. It was an extremely small affair, just dinner with our friends Jen and Dave and their two kids. The husband felt guilty about not throwing D a party, since she had a rather big one last year with all her little preschool and neighborhood pals, but since we just moved into our house two months ago, and the house still isn't quite ready, I didn't feel like inviting too many people. The grandparents arrive next weekend for their own celebration, so I figured having one family over was enough to-do for our little three-year-old.

My neighbor Lucia, who has a baked good catering business, made the simple sheet cake. It looks like a plain-Jane cake, but it was one of the tastiest cakes I've ever had -- and I have sampled slices from renowned bakeries where even the smallest birthday cake (you know, the kind a couple could finish in one sitting) is $40. I told Lucia I wanted a pink cake with butterflies, and that's exactly what I got. Delia loved her "pink glitter cake." Lucia even had her daughters deliver it with a little gift. I am blessed to have such lovely neighbors.

The birthday dinner was a beef stew the husband prepared with Polyface Farms meat and a supermarket baguette. It was the perfect meal for a chilly day, and the birthday girl even demanded seconds. After opening all her presents -- mostly dress-up clothes -- she immediately changed into her new tiara and princess shoes and set off to play with the three other kids.

I'm glad I didn't host the usual Evite party with dozens of children and parents. Two families was exactly the size this little party needed to be, and it was the perfect way to user our toddler into life as a "big girl," as she likes to say.

Many thanks to Dave for taking this picture with his camera phone, and to my husband for helping me clean every room of our supremely messy home before the Lemens arrived.