Say “Bye-Bye”

11 12 2009

Every weekday since I first dropped Azita off at daycare I have the same drop-off routine. First I get her out of her carseat. Roger opens his window and waves goodbye and blows kisses at Azita. Then I carry her into daycare. I talk to her daycare provider for a few minutes — tell her whether she ate breakfast, slept the night before, and basically anything else that might help her gauge Azita’s mood and behavior for the day. Then I hand Azita over and try to get her attention. “Bye-bye, Azita. Bye-bye. Can you say bye-bye to mommy? Say bye-bye. Please. Pleeeease. Say bye-bye. Can mommy have a goodbye kiss?”

Usually all of the other kids there say “bye-bye” to me about 20 times while I stand there making an ass out of myself. Azita never says bye-bye. She knows how to say bye-bye and hello even. She says it to her dad, and continues waving to him as I walk up to the door. She waves hello to Miss. Gail, her favorite caretaker at daycare. She waves bye-bye to Miss Gail when she is leaving daycare. She waves hello and bye-bye to guests visiting our home and to people whose homes we are visiting. She waves hello and bye-bye to perfect strangers on the street. She’ll even say “bye-bye” or “hi”, or at least her cute little baby version of the words. She basically says it to everyone but me.

It’s a little disheartening, but then I remember that her face lights up for me more than it does for anyone else. So, who cares if she won’t wave to me or give me even a little hello or goodbye? Not I.

Then there’s this morning. She waved goodbye to Roger as usual and even said “bye-bye” this morning. She waved hello to Miss Gail when we walked in and gave her a winning smile. Then she turned around and looked at me before I’d even removed her hat and coat and started to wave. “Bye-bye bye-bye bye-bye bye-bye…,” she said. Before I’d even really dropped her off.

She’s not even a year old and she already doesn’t want me hanging around. I know I asked for it, but does she have to be so enthusiastic about sending me off? I tell you, motherhood is one harsh blow after another.

And I love every minute of it.


Bathroom Breaks

10 11 2009

Yesterday when I picked up Azita from daycare, she pulled away from me, reaching out for her caretaker, Miss Gail,  and started whining just short of a real cry. I know she was tired because she refused to nap at all yesterday, but it still stung. And, it’s not exactly a one-time thing either since this morning, she wriggled out of my arms as soon as we set foot in the door. She didn’t look back in my general direction as she crawled away. She didn’t look up and smile when I said bye-bye and waved my arms around like a maniac. She showed no indication that she remembered me. My daughter is leaving the nest already, and she’s not even a year old. And all I can do about it is take a few breaks at work to hang out in a bathroom stall and cry.

Jiggity Jig

16 10 2009

It’s the weekend! Have I mentioned that it’s the weekend? I’m doing a big happy dance right now because I really miss my baby, and in about one hour she will look up from whatever she’s playing with when I walk in the door to her daycare, give me a giant lopsided grin, and crawl over to me as fast as she can. Usually a gleeful shrieking noise accompanies this looking, grinning and crawling. It’s my favorite time of the day, and it’s almost here. Also, have I mentioned that it’s the weekend?

And while I’m mentioning things, have I mentioned how much I want this coat? Seriously, I’ve put it in my shopping cart, removed it, put it back in and removed it again about 10 times already in the past hour. It’s sort of like my very own version of the Red Ryder BB Gun. I’m pretty sure it will poke my eye out, but I still want it anyways.

Have a great weekend dear readers.

My Poor Baby

6 10 2009

What started off as a beyond pleasant Saturday turned into a heartbreaking couple days this past weekend. Azita was refusing to eat on Saturday, and I just chalked it up to her usual finickiness with food (a regular occurrence as of late). But then the moaning started. It was the most pitiful sound. Imagine dying soldier on the battlefield in a Civil War movie, but coming out of a little baby with a pacifier in her mouth. That’s when I noticed that she was really hot and flushed. Sure enough, she had a fever, one that has steadily hovered at around 103-103.5 for the past few days. A trip to the doctor turned up nothing. She was given the catch-all diagnosis — a virus — and the usual prognosis — it’ll go away on its own. But, there’s no denying it, she’s still sick. And, the moaning. It’s still there, and it’s killing me.

Leaving her at daycare this morning was so heart-wrenching. It felt like a slightly less intense version of her first day at daycare. I won’t deny that I was on the verge of tears for much of the drive into work. I feel pretty sure that my heart may rend into two if she doesn’t start feeling better soon. When it comes down to it, though, it’s really not so bad. She has a fever, and she’ll get through this. I can’t help thinking of all those parents out there with really ill children who won’t get through it or will at least have a much tougher time doing so. Babies with illnesses serious enough to warrant hospitalization. I can’t imagine what they are going through, what they have to see their babies go through, the moaning they have to hear. It’s enough to break me out of my funk and make me thankful.


27 09 2009

It’s Sunday night. The sun is slipping down behind the trees, leaving behind a lavender and orange wake. The crickets and tree frogs have started chirping, and a slight breeze tickles the leaves on the giant oaks as it sweeps the crisp night-time air through my open window. I’m sitting on the couch with a sleeping baby on my lap. Her little belly rises and falls slowly. Her mouth is relaxed into a little, crooked pout. Her impossibly long lashes brush her cheeks. The tv is off. There is no music. Just the quiet and chirping and breeze and the occasional car rushing down the street in front of our home — a symphony by John Cage. I could get addicted to this idyllic world, but somewhere in my chest is a hard pit that rises up to tighten my throat. It ruins this moment. In only 12 hours I’ll be driving to daycare, ready to leave my baby with someone else. And suddenly the noise comes crashing down into my head and my life seems like an impossible situation.

My Glass Half Empty Post

14 09 2009

I’m back at work after a week long vacation. We didn’t travel anywhere. It was just a blissful week of spending all day and night with Azita. I was tired of missing all of her firsts, and there have been a lot of them lately — crawling, pulling up, cruising, more coherent babbling (she now says “mama” and “baba”). I had hoped I’d get to witness a first something in this week off, but I didn’t. She’s now back in daycare where someone else gets to be there for all of the milestones in her life. This blows. It really, really blows. There’s no other way to look at it, at least not from my point of view. Right now I’m sitting at my desk at work, “looking forward” to a long day — we have a work thing that will keep me away from her until 7:30 tonight — and feeling about as woeful as I can get, until I get to see my darling little squirrel tonight. Yes, we call her “squirrel.” Actually, “squirrel” is her nick-nickname. The full nickname is really “squirrel butt”, and that’s definitely another post for another time. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to go cry at my own pity party.

Waiting for Godot…

28 08 2009

…if Godot is teeth, that is.

For the past 4 months or so, Azita has shown all the signs of teething. She chomps on anything that comes within arm’s reach. She is irritable here and there. She sometimes has swollen gums. Her drooling is out of control. I mean, there hasn’t been a single day I haven’t come to work and not found drool stains somewhere on my person. And, yes, I do start off the day in clean clothes. And, I do know about Tide sticks and use them in mass quantities. She has to be teething, right?

But no teeth.

It was driving me crazy for some reason. I can’t tell you why I’ve been so anxious for her to cut a tooth already. Maybe it’s because I somehow think that the minute a tooth comes out, she will never cry inconsolably until I give her some Motrin and won’t chew on everything and make me the person who arrives at work with weird stains on her shirt. The wannabe-Vulcan* side of me knows that is not the case. I fully understand that teething is a 2-3 year ordeal with many highs and lows, and that there are many other more difficult ordeals in store (puberty, perhaps?). But some small, but pretty vocal side of me, just knows that everything will be easy-peasy and peachy keen once that first tooth makes an appearance.

Now, notice that I said it “was” driving me crazy. I used the past tense, because somewhere in the past 2 or 3 weeks I plumb forget about this whole teething business. In that time span she started crawling and is trying like hell to get up and walk away from me, and she’s babbling more than ever and developing some personality. Whatever it is, something has distracted me from the teething business.

Until yesterday. Azita has been fussy for the past few days. She grabs at her ears. She is refusing to eat — this from the girl who earned the nicknames of “fatty fat fat” and “thunder thighs” (that’s a topic for a future post) at daycare. Well, yesterday I broke down and called her pediatrician’s office. I just didn’t care anymore if I was that mother. You know, the one who calls the doctor every time her baby cries.

As I described Azita’s symptoms to the nurse, I started thinking that she definitely had an ear infection. I started preparing to hop back in the car to head to the pediatrician’s office. Surely they would want her to come in and get that checked out. And then the nurse said the “t” word. Yup, teething. “Sounds like she’s about to cut a tooth to me.”

After months of obsessing about teething and learning about and looking for every little symptom, I forgot it would even happen. But, it all makes sense. Surely she’s getting a tooth. She has all the symptoms. That’s what all of this means. Right? Right?

Yeah right. I’ll believe it when I see it.

* Yes, I am hinting at my Star Trek obsession here. Star Trek and other sci-fi references will slip out regularly, so get use to it.