A School Bus ride to nowhere...

Every morning Jon takes Isobel to the school bus. He loves to take her and she loves the time with Daddy. The Wednesday after the blackout school was delayed for 2 hours, so taking Isobel to the school bus became my responsibility. Two hours after her normal scheduled pick up time I walk out to the bus stop with all the kids in tow. About 10 minutes after the bus should have been there I start to worry. Do buses run when there's a delay? Can I successfully add 2 and 8? With all of these thoughts filling my mind and panic setting in, the bus comes around the corner... the wrong corner.

Although it was coming from the wrong way and there were no other children on the bus, I dutifully have Isobel cross the street and board the bus. As she climbs the stairs the driver waves at me and I realize that it is not her normal driver. The bus pulls away and I realize it is not her normal bus number. I rationalize all of these oddities with the fact that there is much upheaval due to the blackout. Downed power lines make it difficult to maneuver the area, so a different route is not unbelievable. The gas shortage (due to the power outage) may cause a shuffle of busses depending on gas levels. It is likely that some of the drivers are still without power, leading to sub drivers. All of these things make perfect sense to me... until I walk in the house.

All of a sudden my paranoid, panicky mind starts to go into overdrive. Maybe I should just call and confirm all of my thoughts with the transportation department. I would feel much better knowing that Isobel got on the right bus and I would be able to enjoy the rest of the morning. Unfortunately, they did not have power at the district office, so after two attempts I realize I will not be getting through to the transportation folks.

I wait a bit and decide to call Jon. He will set my panicky mind at ease. Not so, in fact after relaying my story, Jon's reply is "So, you followed the bus to make sure she got to school?” OMG!!! Now, my panic is in full motion. I mean if even-tempered, rational Jon thinks it is suspicious, it must be.

I immediately call the school. Afraid I will sound a little like a psycho parent I rationally tell the school secretary the story. She says she will forward me to the transportation people. I kindly say that I have already tried, but there is no answer. I then suggest that I am really only afraid that she got on the wrong bus and will end up at the wrong school. The secretary replies that she will check with Isobel's teacher and make sure she is at school...

"I'm sorry, but she is not in class."

PANIC!!!

Some psycho child killer must have bought a school bus from the district and picked up my daughter. She is being tortured right now as I sit here talking to the school secretary. Who do I call and say that my daughter is being tortured by a psycho with a school bus.

The calm secretary is talking to me, but I have no clue what she is saying... I start to babble about how I am sure she is fine and perhaps the bus is just taking longer. She asks for my number and says she will call the Transportation cell and emergency line and call me right back. Wait... did she say EMERGENCY! I am really starting to freak out, my peripheral vision has blurred and my cheeks are starting to burn.

"Oh wait, just a second." She says politely... just a second is she crazy. My baby is in the clutches of some school bus psycho. After a three hour wait (okay three second), she comes back on the line.

"She just walked into class, so she is here now. Can I help you with anything else?"

"No thank you." I manage to squeak out before hanging up the phone and collapsing into tears.

Easily the worst 4 minutes of my entire life!

After drying my eyes and teaching myself to breathe again I call Jon to tell him the story. He gasped in all the right places and played the daddy role very well. He was insanely mad that I put Isobel on the bus with no regard for her safety.

All ended well, but now I have a new picture in my mind. It never, ever occurred to me that school districts selling old busses could be used for mayhem.

I will never look at a school bus the same way again.

Now it is Eli's turn...

Eli started pre-school last week. It has not been an easy transition for him. He is excited at the idea of going to school, but the reality kicks his separation anxiety into high gear. It is heart breaking to see him cry and kick and scream... which is amplified by my own separation anxiety issues.

Last Thursday was his first full (half) day and he was so excited to go. He actually ran over to the preschool and was ready to go into class. I dropped him off easily, he just said "bye, mom" and ran to play. However, when I came to pick him up his teacher told me that he had a little difficulty when he realized I was gone. They ended up taking him to see Isobel's old teacher and he perked up. Kudos to Eli's teachers for such a great idea... I am not sure anyone else would have thought to incorporate something familiar in that manner. Just the fact that they realized Isobel was there last year and Eli would know her teachers solidified the caliber of this establishment in my mind.

Unfortunately, the blackout caused school closures last week, so he didn't go on Tuesday... I think that break had a greater impact than I could have imagined.

Thursday, he ran out the door super excited about his preschool adventure, upset that it had been so long since he had been at school.

He kept yelling "Come on, Mom. We are going to be late!"

When we arrived at the school he was ready. Then he turned to me and said...

"Okay, mom. You wait right here. I will be back in a little bit."

"Eli, I can't wait here. I have to go home. I will be back to pick you up when school is over."

"No. You wait right here."

"No, bug... you are a big boy now, and big boys go to school without their mom's."

"I don't want to go to school. I want to go home with you. I hate school."

I somehow managed to get him to go into class by asking him to give something to his teachers. He caught on to my trick and gave it to one of the other mom's and ran out of the room. I chased him out of the room trying to console him, but it didn't work... he was in a full blown separation anxiety attack. A few minutes later one of the teachers came out and asked him to help her pick out the snack, he said no, he wanted to go home! She picked him up and I said "Bye, bug... I love you." and ran out the door.

When I picked him up he was fine, but as we walked out the door he said...

"I hate school and I am never going back!"

I can't wait until Tuesday!

Any advice as to how to get through it is welcomed...

This is love...

Yesterday, while changing a particularly foul diaper of Eli's, my husband cringed and said "yuck".

"you hate my butt, daddy?"

"no, Eli."

"you love my butt, daddy?"

"of course I do, Eli"

"you want to kiss my butt, daddy?"

Jon chuckled and said "not today, Eli".

I hate you...

What is the obsession with the phrase "I hate you" in young kids. Isobel went through that awful phase and now Eli is smack in the middle of it. With Isobel we just had to tell her that "hate" is a bad word and she should never say it. After a couple of reminders, she stopped. Eli, however, doesn't care that it is a bad word. If I remind him that it is a bad word he just gives me his little evil eye and says it again and again. The biggest problem is that it is rather comical. After we explained to him that hate is not nice and it makes people sad, he has started following it up with "I like you". Now, if you do anything that Eli doesn't like, his little eyes squint and he says… "I hate you, I like you".

So, I have exhausted my mommy's mind and I am at a total loss. I think I will just have to settle for "well, I love you, Eli."

The great parenting debate...

Today my two year old son told me that mommy's stay home and daddy's go to work. I never thought I would hear that from one of my children. I was raised by a strong, independent, working mother and I always assumed I would be the same. The thing is I am a working mother. I have a full time job with a Fortune 500 company. I go to work every morning… in my basement.

There are positives and negatives to working at home. Most importantly I get to spend more time with my kids, there is no commute, I eat all of my meals with my kids, and I can take 15 minutes here or there to do an art project or go for a walk. The down side, they spend more time in front of the TV then pediatricians recommend, I have absolutely no alone time and my son has developed a serious attachment to me that didn't exist before (I can't even go to the bathroom without him standing outside the door crying).

So... in the great debate of Stay at Home Moms vs. Working Moms, where does the Work at Home Mom fit in? Is it better to be home with your children, even if you can't give them all the attention they deserve or are they better off in a daycare center with a qualified and trained staff? As more and more companies embrace the concept of telecommuting, will there be a noticeable impact on our kids?