Time keeps on slippin’…

Crap. Now I have that song running through my head.

Anyway. Yeah, I know, long time, yada yada yada… Work, doctors, soccer season, more work, the fall rush… Busy.

I will be the mother of a teenager in 10 days.

My little bitty infant is now a fat happy baby who is eating finger foods and trying to walk. (Yes, that’s right, walk)

The Pout

The Peach had her first day in daycare on Monday. We decided she should go once a week because she has become accustomed to a tiny little universe consisting of me, The Zen Master, Princess Punk and My Mom. Anyone outside of that universe, including My Dad, My In-Laws and Crazy Girl are all aliens and not to be trusted or tolerated. She puts on The Pout whenever anyone from outside her little world comes near her and will start screeeeeeeaaaming if anyone else should deign to hold her. The Zen Master and I discussed it and as luck would have it, a girl from work who I like a lot and who happens to live within 15 minutes of my house, decided to quit her job and open a home day care. So The Peach is now in her care every Monday for a full day.

This first Monday? Sucked. She cried. I cried. She screamed. I cried some more. After about 15 minutes of me trying to tell her it was okay while simultaneously fighting back tears (I’m sure that was believable), Ms. Daycare said, “You should probably just rip off the band-aid and go.”

So I left.

And I cried almost the whole way to work.

It wasn’t as bad when Princess Punk started in daycare. She was only 6 weeks old and at that point, it was just a different hand putting a bottle in her mouth. It was still painful leaving my baby but there were no angry, weeping, accusatory looks like I got from The Peach. The “I can’t believe you’re giving me away to this strange person and just leaving… How could you!?!? face. Ms. Daycare’s fiancée also happens to be a co-worker. He arrived at work about 20 minutes after I did and assured me The Peach was calm and happy by the time he left and was eating her oatmeal with gusto. Honestly, I felt a teeny bit bummed that she wasn’t still crying, I just wanted her to miss me that much… Yeah, I know, Dork. Ms. Daycare sent me text messages and pictures throughout the day to assure me The Peach was doing fine. OH, and Peachy-Pie decided to make mommy look like a big fat liar and take a 3 hour nap in a crib, after I had explained in detail to Ms. Daycare how difficult it is to get that kid to sleep during the day and if you should put her down at any time, her eyes pop open like one of those weird baby dolls. Fine. Be that way. Brat.

I picked her up late afternoon, almost 5. Ms. Daycare said she had been good most of the day, only crying once or twice. She had apparently been very serious throughout the day, didn’t smile much except when they went outside and she got to play on the swing. She was solemn and serious but calm and not crying. Well, ok, not crying until I strapped her into the car seat. Then she revved up the siren. And kept it going most of the way home before she completely passed out. She ended up sleeping in the car seat at home for another 20 minutes and then woke up crabby. Like VERY crabby. Like inconsolable crying, pushing herself away from The Zen Master and I, tearful, snot-bubble crabby. This went on about 30 minutes and then, like someone had flipped a switch in her little brain, she was fine. Laughing, playing peek-a-boo, grabbing my phone and eating dinner. Like she hadn’t just been all red-faced demon baby with a poker up her ass.

So we survived her first day. And we’ll see how she does this coming Monday.

I have an MRI this morning. Then My Mom and I are going to run some errands, one of which is going to Vicki’s Secret to get a gift certificate for Princess Punk. Cuz God help us, she has real boobs now and I think a fitting present for her 13th birthday is a few pretty, well-fitting bras and Lord knows, The Zen Master isn’t gonna take her. Not that I’d want him to anyway but I think it’s hilarious that We swapped the chores around in the house so The Zen Master now does the dishes and Princess Punk now folds the laundry because he was starting to freak out whenever he had to handle her little lacey bra or bikini underwear. Poor kid actually HAS to wear bikinis or at least hip huggers because she has such a righteous ass (and I know that’s a weird thing to say about your daughter but it’s totally true and I’m totally jealous). When she wears jeans actually made for girls, the pants that actually fit her ample butt and hips leave a 2 inch gap at her waist right in the back. Which will conveniently show off any type of panties she is wearing unless they are fitted low on her hips. I’m SO thankful she is a tomboy because if she wore girly-girl clothes all the time she’d have high school boys banging down my door and The Zen Master would end up in jail for assault.

The realization hit me the other day that she is about to turn 13. And I lost my virginity when I was 14… And I got a little sick.

Then I remembered. She isn’t me. The Princess is a lot more self-assured than I ever was and acts more like a kid her age should act around the opposite sex. A good portion of her friends are boys, she doesn’t get all giggly and stupid like I’ve seen some of the other girls do and while those girls hang around and gossip about who likes who and watch the boys play kickball and football, The Princess is watching the boys fight over who gets to have her on their team because she can kick the ball farther than any of them do. I love watching her play soccer. She’s a strong defensive player and goal kicks and corner kicks generally go to her or one other girl on the team (who doesn’t kick as far but has better accuracy). She goes up for a goal kick and I watch the other team run backwards because they know what’s coming. I’ve seen her kick a ball from midfield and only miss making a goal because of an exceptional save from the other team’s goalie. She’s tough and she’ll play through anything although she’ll bitch and moan for hours about bruises, aches and pains after the game.

She’s a mature, beautiful, talented young woman. The Peach is a smart, active and is rapidly  growing before my eyes. And it’s going so fast… Just keeps on slippin’.


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