I got my hair cut yesterday. Gavin did not get his hair cut as he does not have hair to spare. But I hacked off 10 inches and am donating it to Locks of Love. I usually only get my hair cut every couple of years or so because I want to "help bald babies," as my boss once summed it up when I explained why I was sending my hair in a padded envelope through the mail. Actually "hacked off" really doesn't do justice to my friend Liz who is quite good at what she does and the only person I trust to cut my hair. Should she move away I will have no other choice but to grow my hair out like a Mennonite woman or like Mrs. Hess, my 7th grade home ec. teacher who may or may not have been a Mennonite but who did teach me to make peanut butter cornflake brownies, a recipe I had -- and may still have -- memorized and is quite likely the only thing I learned in 7th grade besides the humiliation and rejection standard in Jr. High curriculum. Oh, Gavin. I wish I could spare you...
Anyway, enough about my hair (you're all, "What is this, HairCareBlogDotCom.net or something? I came here to read about the cutest baby in all the land"). Today was my first day back on as full time stay-at-home Mama D since summer began. Stacy is back at work now, which means me and Gavin are once again flying solo (or, I guess, duo?). I start work next week. Gavin officially starts daycare tomorrow, but since I am home he will only be there for a few hours while I go to an appointment. Kind of easing him in, so to speak. Stacy and Gavin and I met with his main caretaker at the daycare and she seems nice. Gavin ran around and played with the toys while Stacy peppered this poor woman with sometimes very specific directions and advice re: the care-taking of our son. Granted, I want him to be well cared for, but he is one of many kids there and it is unlikely that she'll remember all that Stacy told her. But if I hadn't been wrangling Gavin during their conversation, I would have been the same way. What I took away from that meeting is that the daycare has good toys and Gavin definitely likes that. They also have a turtle in a tank. It's a small turtle and a small tank, probably too small. I don't understand the point of keeping turtles as pets, though my best friend did once buy a turtle the size of a quarter from Mexican children on a street corner in Los Angeles. I don't recall it living very long. This fact does not further my understanding of or enthusiasm for turtles as pets. In any case, I can't help but think that being in a tank at handprint level in a room full of babies and toddlers would be a terrifying existence.
So, yes. Going back to work. Exciting because "money," but sad because "Gavin." But I will still be home with him Tuesdays and Thursdays and will continue to chronicle our adventures here.
Gavin is growing and changing so much it's hard to keep up with it all. His vocabulary is growing so fast. The number of words he understands is just exploding and the words he actually says keep multiplying. "Outside" is a current favorite. He loves to play out in the yard (mostly he wants to pick up the watering can, climb up and down the deck steps, and put his hands in the dirt in Stacy's planters on the deck) and has been quite demanding about it. Today I was trying to upload a picture of me and Gavin and I was standing in the kitchen (I had the computer on the kitchen counter because Gavin and I were listing to music while I fed him brunch) and Gavin was slapping the sliding door saying, "Outside." While I wasn't ignoring him per se, I didn't want to let him outside because as soon as I was done we were leaving to go to his doctor's office to pick up paperwork for daycare. So Gavin came over to me and put his hands on my legs and started pushing me toward the door saying, "Outside." And when we didn't go outside he got mega-pissed. Mega-Pissed Gavin is the newest addition to our son's personality library. Mega-Pissed Gavin screams and cries and stomps his feet if he doesn't get what he wants. He also thrashes and arches his back if you try to pick him up. I realize that this is all part of toddlerhood, but it still throws me every time he starts to "go off" as Super Nanny would say.
Out in the yard today after Stacy came home Gavin tried to climb up into the patio chairs we have outside. He was so very determined to do this. In fact, after the first success he tried again a short time later and became really frustrated because he couldn't quite do it. Stacy guessed that his muscles were tired for the next go around and I'm inclined to agree since it literally took all of his might. He even made himself throw up a little bit (and but a little bit I mean half-dollar size) because he was exerting himself so much while simultaneously pressing his stomach against the edge of the chair rather soon after he'd eaten. But it was definitely puke and not the spit-up of his babyhood. Thankfully Gavin has never thrown up before. I have managed to remain calm and take care of messes he makes with all sorts of bodily goop, but I don't do well with vomit. I know that eventually I will be faced with this horror and that I will not be able to simply get as far away as possible because it will be my own son and thus my responsibility. All I can hope is that Stacy is with us at the time.
Speaking of Stacy, she got a taste of what it's like to get the brush off today. As I've mentioned, Gavin's been on a "Mommy only" kick for the past couple of months where he treats me like I'm just the help. Well today when Stacy came home from work I was changing Gavin's diaper in his room and his door was shut. I heard the car and the side door open and I said to Gavin, "Mommy's home." He seemed to perk up at his news but when I opened his door to a grinning Stacy on her knees with her arms out for a hug, Gavin blew right past her in favor of a bottle of water I'd left on the living room table. It was funny, but also sad because I saw Stacy's face just fall. She'd been missing us all day and was rejected for a plastic bottle. Like I said, Gavin is already a heart breaker.
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