Like a Needle in my Heart

Anabelle has been ready for quite some time now to spread her little butterfly wings outside the confines of her own living room and journey into the blessed germ-infested and bad habit ridden environment we like to call preschool.

About 6 months ago, every time we would get off the freeway and make a turn toward our neighborhood, she would burst into hysterics and sob "IIIII DOOONNNT WANNNN GOOOOOO HOOOOMMMMMMEEE!! thru huge crocodile tears as if someone had just ripped the head off her favorite baby doll or something. Heading home is a practical death sentence to her!

We thought it was just a phase, but I think SIX MONTHS is a pretty stinking long phase, if you ask me.

I would understand it if we were coming home from, say, Disneyland, or the park, or somewhere else magical and fun filled. But it happens when we make a quick trip to Trader Joe's, for crying out loud.

I know every parent tends to analyze their children's behaviors, and perhaps out of guilt even blame themselves for some obscurity it could be attributed to, but I honestly think the best conclusion that can be drawn from this is just that she spends SO much time at home, and she is SO socially inclined that she craves even the brief stimulation she gets from the strangers in line ahead of us at Target.

Plus, she watches in wonder and slight jealousy as Dawson skips off with his cool lunchbox into the neighbor's car every morning, headed off to some great adventure she is excluded from.

The kids are only 14 mos apart, however, because of the months that their birthday's fall under in terms of the California educational system, Dawson will (hopefully) start kindergarten as a 4 year old next September, and Anabelle will be two whole grades behind him.

Because of the fact that she will have extra time to attend preschool than he will have had, and also because of the fact that its WAYYYYYYYYYY too expensive to have two kids in even part time preschool when I am home all day and fully capable of caring for them, she will just have to wait her turn until the Fall. (I know, meanest Mom award, AGAIN).

Anyways, all of that said, it still doesn't solve the issue of Anabelle's hatred for being ball and chained to her own dungeon of a home life in the mean time.

Recently, Rachel Hunter has been an absolute SAINT, and once a week she has been taking Anabelle to gymnastics along with her OWN two children (she's as crazy as I am!!!). Anabelle LOVES going, and talks about it constantly.

She also has become obsessed with going to 'KidsClub,' which is the daycare at the Gym. She asks me first thing every morning if I am planning to go to the gym that day, and treats me as a best friend or worst enemy for the rest of the morning depending on the response I give her. Goes to show how important it is to get out of the house to her (or what a huge attitude issue she has, either way).

Dawson turns 4 tomorrow, and it occurred to me yesterday that I hadn't scheduled his 4 year old checkup with the pediatrician. I took the day off Friday, so I called on a whim to see if I could squeeze him in then, and also hopefully get both the kids a flu shot ("Guess what you're getting for your birthday this year Dawsie?! A SHOT!!!").

By some miracle, YES, they did have one appointment left, the kids could both be seen, and at the perfect time of day to allow us to fit all our previously scheduled activities in as well (don't you LOVE when sometimes things actually work out as planned?!).

When I hung up the phone, Anabelle asked "Who was that you were talking to on the phone, Mama?" (noooosey, I know!)

I told her it was the Dr. and that I had to make an appointment for Dawson, then I hesitated while I decided whether or not to break the bad news to the kids in advance.

I decided to prepare them.

"Anabelle, on Friday before we go to Dawson's school and give our friends their cupcakes, we have to go to the Dr. They are going to give you a shot, like a poke in your arm, and then you will get a band aide and a sticker..."

I don't even think she heard the last part about the band aide and sticker, for she was off down the hall in a cloud of dust, and re appeared a half second later frantically fumbling to pull her shoes on."

"LETS GO, LETS GO MAMA, WE DON'T WANT TO BE LATE FOR MY SHOT!!!"

So, yah. I think she officially prefers contact with the outside world- even if that means being tortured with needles- over the company of her own mother.

I love the warm and tingly feelings of motherhood.