Summer Plans

I used to secretly judge parents who lined up nonstop classes and activities for their very young kids. I used to secretly judge parents for a lot of things, come to think of it.

But now, being the primary guardian of a toddler, I do so no longer. Kids this age are very active, require constant supervision, have nonexistent attention spans, and will burn through every toy in the house and begin whining with boredom by 9am.

I didn't realize just how reliant I was on organized activities for Sadie until last week's toddler group. The director reminded us that beginning in July, they will institute a pay-per-class option until the fall semester begins in September. We've opted out of the pay-per-class, since there are plenty of cheaper options out there and her spot in the fall toddler program is already reserved, so we don't need to worry about her losing her spot.

What I do need to worry about is how I'm going to fill a new blank spot in our schedule: Friday afternoons. "Winging it" is not an option, I'm sorry -- the park has already lost its appeal, and if we stay home all day then we both wind up wanting to kill each other.

So, for anyone interested, here are a few of the classes and activities I'm going to be doing with my under-two-years-old daughter this summer. No mockery allowed.

Gymboree
Ah, Gymboree. I've avoided you for so long, and now that I've finally caved, I can see that you are going to be like sweet, sweet crack for both me and my child. Gymboree involves a giant, padded, multi-room playspace and a teacher named Roxanna who speaks with an EXTREMELY LOUD VOICE and SINGS EVERYTHING AT THE TOP OF HER LUNGS. She instructs the children LOUDLY for about 45 minutes, as they climb stairs, throw balls, play with bubbles and shake a big, colored parachute around. Remember those parachutes from when you were a kid? I'm glad to see they're still around. Oh, she also shakes a frightening little clown hand puppet named "Gymbo" in the faces of frightened children.

Swim Class
I refuse to think of this as a "class," and it's definitely not a "lesson." It is, however, held at a swim school. It's pretty much just a bunch of moms in a pool, holding their kids' heads above water and instructing them to kick. Sadie couldn't care less about the kicking part (She's all, "what are you gonna do if I don't kick? Drop me? I don't think so.") but she adores being in the water, and a mere half hour of pool time exhausts her for the rest of the morning. So this is a definite once a week "do."

Library Storytime
We've actually been doing this for the past six months. It's a reliable time-killer, with a librarian leading maybe a dozen kids in stretches, songs and book-reading. The library is right next to the park, so on the days when Sadie doesn't feel like sitting in one spot for 30 minutes, we can escape to a place where she can stretch her legs, run around and pick up one communicable disease or another.

I've also begun compiling a list of non-organized activities that are fun to do, but require more time management and attention, since there's no teacher or instructor taking charge of things. For now, they include Kidspace, the Zimmer Museum, and the LA Zoo. AKA places I never had any interest in going until the day I gave birth.

Development/Delays

Oh, what fun infant day care has been! In the space of less than two months, it has transformed me from a confident, knowledgeable mother to a helpless, shivering bundle of nerves -- convinced that the only thing that might prevent my child from growing into a developmentally-delayed pile of goop is the possibility that she might first expire from relentless chest colds picked up from other children.

We knew it was only a matter of time before Sadie got sick. We've been incredibly, remarkably lucky thus far -- up until last month she's never had so much as a single sniffle, despite my sometimes lazy cleaning habits. (I once caught her wrapping her mouth around Pepper's tail stub, which is about an inch long.) Then she began day care, and within two weeks had caught a mild cold.

She threw it off with ease, but last weekend we threw a barbecue to celebrate the 4th of July, Scott's birthday and the (amazing) fact that he's lost over a hundred pounds. That was a loud, noisy, hectic day, and she'd been running a low-grade fever a few days earlier, though she seemed recovered by the time we threw the party. Apparently not. She returned from a sleepover at my parents' house that same night with a rumble in her chest, and by the next morning it had turned into a full-blown chest cold.

I had never realized before this point how completely sad and pathetic a sick baby is. Oh my God. Between the hacking and the coughing and the chest burbling, she would cry and sleep and cry again. It sucks not to be able to explain to your baby why she feels so bad, and to reassure her that she'll be better soon. Besides, my secret worry was that things might get worse.

Panicked, I put in a call to my pediatrician's office, then I called back again, and left multiple messages, until I got a frosty call back from the nurse on duty, all, "YES, CAN I HELP YOU, IRRITATING WOMAN?" She warmed up a little when it became obvious I was just a nervous first-time mom, and reassured me that as long as Sadie wasn't running a fever and still had an appetite, there was little need to worry.

She was right, and Sadie was on the mend the next day. It's taken her awhile to shake the cough, though, and she's still napping more than normal. When she baby-babbles, she sounds like she's picked up a pack-a-day habit. She sounds like Bonnie Raitt.

None of this is the major concern, though, because apparently what I should be worried about, according to the woman who runs Sadie's day care, is the fact that her lack of mobility is a HORRIBLE THING and this, truly, is what I should be worrying about. 

I mean, here's the thing. She loves to stand, can do so if supported, and struggles to get up on her feet when you pick her up under her arms. She sits, rolls around, all of this.

But she doesn't try to get from Point A to Point B. She doesn't scoot, cruise, walk or crawl. She doesn't try to pull her legs up underneath her when lying on her belly. She doesn't really lie on her belly, period -- at least, not for longer than the time it takes to grab whatever toy is in reach so she can roll back over again and play with it. If you take the toy out of reach, as I've said before, she immediately loses interest in it, or else she kind of fusses in its general direction before shifting her attention elsewhere.

I'm sure, as a day care operator, it's got to be annoying to have to deal with a baby who is going on 10 months old and still won't go after something that's out of reach. But really -- to the point where she had to mention it to Scott when he picked her up last week, and then AGAIN to me on the phone today? This was, in essence, the conversation we had:

HER: I want to talk to you about Sadie.

ME: Okay.

HER: And I understand you are a first-time mother, so you don't know. You don't have anything to compare.

ME: .......Right.

HER: She needs more activity.

ME: Activity?

HER: She needs to learn how to crawl, and she is not crawling.

ME: I know she isn't...but don't some babies just learn late?

HER: (in a very patient voice reserved for mothers who need to be told not to put Mountain Dew in their baby's bottles) I understand you are a first-time mother. But some babies, their muscle tone isn't good. And there are exercises you can do to help her learn how to move. Have you talked to her doctor?

ME: Well...at her nine month checkup, she didn't seem to be concerned about it. And I know some babies just get a late start...

HER: I think you should talk to her doctor. Because she won't crawl, and she won't hold a bottle.

Okay. Nothing inspires unease like hearing your child's day care instructor say, in the sort of tone your auto mechanic might tell you that your timing belt has snapped, "She won't crawl, and she won't hold a bottle." I mean, we've had the bottle discussion before. I'm working with her on the bottle thing. She KNOWS how to pick up a bottle; she just decidedly doesn't want to DO it. Now my worry is that my daughter's obstinance is going to get her expelled from day care.

"Attitude problems. Issues with authority," they'll write on her report card. And it will go on her permanent record.

I know I'm being overly dramatic here, but...yeesh. I went ahead and talked to our pediatrician (that office sure has been getting to know me well the past couple of weeks) and she sounded...unconcerned, to say the least. What she did do was refer me to a service that sends physical therapists to the homes of children who have physical developmental delays. She also mentioned that because it's a state-run service, it's free of charge but that Sadie might not even qualify and oh, even if she did, it could take months for them to fit me in for a consultation.

Months.

Like, presumably by the time I got in to see them about my non-crawling daughter, she'll already be at the stage where she's not only crawling but also walking, jumping and running.

Faced with the choice of whether to spend the next few months agonizing, or simply not worrying about the whole thing, I think I'm going to have to opt for the latter. Of course, if my daughter winds up flunking day care, sending her down a lifelong path of failure and confidence issues, she'll have nobody but me to blame.

Summer

With the arrival of summer came babyhood on a whole new level. Sadie eats food off our plates (today it was tiny bits of cheese, mushrooms and sausage off our pizza at Costco), gives wet sloppy kisses to everything around her, and now understands a lot of what I say. "Hungry," "bottle," "sleepy"...I think I'm going to have to start watching my swearing. Shit.

Here's where we are in life right now. Sadie starts daycare full time starting next week. It's worked out so well having her there part time that I've kind of gotten spoiled. The more she's away, the more work I can do, and the more work I can look for. I've had more work in the past month than in the past two years combined, all of it very welcome and rewarding. I've been writing for a living for years now, but now I finally feel like a professional writer. I'm also helping my mother out with a massive-scale filing project one day a week.

All in all, there's a lot to do, and while putting a nine month old baby in daycare five times a week may sound like a lot, the truth is that we still spend a lot of time together. I'll drop her off in the mornings, then pick her up around 3:30 every afternoon. That way we still have all afternoon and evening to spend together, playing at home with the dogs or sitting in the shade under our orange trees in the backyard, or running errands. She's now old enough to sit in the shopping  cart instead of in the Baby Bjorn, looking around at everything and everyone.

Meanwhile, now that I've got mornings to myself, I have a giant laundry list of stuff I'd love to get done that's been put off since I first got pregnant a year and a half ago. Like, for instance, organizing the closet. Arranging a garage sale. Donating to Goodwill. Pulling out all the failed plants in our vegetable garden and preparing to seed in late summer. Dust under EVERYTHING, because the dust bunnies have begun banding together and forming a rebel army.

Well, I was going to update more, but Her Royal Highness just woke up from her afternoon nap. I'm the court jester, so I'd better get ready to do some entertaining.