Stress Alert

On a spontaneous whim, I bought some sushi from HEB this afternoon. I get back to my desk and see that it’s more bait than sushi. I’m not even sure fish would eat it. That’s $6 down the drain. Such a bummer. Today’s lunch is now a salty oatmeal cookie.

It’s going to be a week of craziness and because I’m expecting it to be crazy, I’ve already heightened the stress level to “unhealthy.” Tomorrow the dad figure goes out of town for three days to earn some dough so baby and I are left to our own devices (TV dinners, co-sleeping). Tomorrow the little one returns to school, an event that has me gripped with anxiety because I know the crocodile tears forming tiny ponds on the playroom floor will be hard to bear. He’s only going Tuesday/Thursdays so he’s not already locked in to being in school for like the next 25 years. Knowing my past at daycare though, I can only hope I have everything in order and nothing will spill, fall out, get left behind or broken. I’m a nitwit that way, a klutz under parenting pressure. I am excited though. I have been imagining mornings of home-based yoga, coffeeshop camping, and Target sprees for months now. Finally, they all will be mine!

I am having some of my walls painted in my house tomorrow, too, and the cleaning lady comes on Wednesday (yes, it’s a generous luxury and I openly thank papa for footing the bill). Baby will be at work with me that day and THAT should be interesting. He’s still mommy-centric but I believe arming my co-workers with baby bribery tools will encourage rapid bonding. Thursday is another day of tears (mine and his) and separation at school but I’m hoping for the best and perhaps W will be so stoked to be with other little people he won’t even know I’m gone. Friday is the debut of a new caregiver as Miss Jo is back to teaching second graders. She seems nice and to know her stuff about babies but we’ll see. As a child, my brother and I had a plethora of sub par sitters as mom tried to make ends meet while my father took jobs in Alaska on the pipeline or worked the night shift at a plant of some sort. I have foggy memories of a few of them. Certain things trigger memories of those uncomfortable days. The dry heat of space heaters, the essence of moth balls, cheese sandwiches on white bread, cigarette smoke embedded in furniture, rough blankets. I even have a few songs that take me back there, too. I call them “Bad Babysitter Songs”. The Starland Vocal Band’s “Afternoon Delight” is a big one. “Muskrat Love” by Captain and Tenille and “I Am…I Said” by Neil Diamond. Ugh. Those songs make me cringe with bad babysitter memories.

Anyway, it’s a lot to digest in one week without the daddy soundboard so I will defer to the blog instead. Onward.