First Day of School

I cried. I am not ashamed.
Today was a monumental day...a day when I willingly left my son in the care of someone who wasn't related to me, a dear friend, or family member. A day when I had to let go of him a little more and set him free in that big, wonderful world of possibility. Yes, it was the first day - with many to come (18, including college) - of school.
I had mixed emotions. Going into it, Michael and I had decided that putting Mason in a Montessori school was the best option for us, which would give me more focused time to work instead of piece-mealing it together throughout the week and would offer Mason an social and educational outlet, more so than my non-educational office environment. We didn't just want child care, we wanted school. Trying to balance parenting with a job has become more and more stressful and, I didn't think, healthy for either Mason or I, so it seemed like a good time to transition to the "real" world.
When we entered the classroom, we were met with two SCREAMING children. I mean IN.CON.SOLABLE! Immediately visions of Mason bawling his eyes out for hours (which he has hardly done more than 5 minutes, 6 times in the last year), unable to come to grips because Mommy wasn't there to comfort him entered my mind. What was I doing? Why was I abandoning my child to the unknown, to strangers, to the whims of other children? Why couldn't I be a good enough mother to do it all and take him to work and teach him to read and talk and walk and share? This feeling of GUILT hung like a wet blanket while my ears rang from the wails of the other kids.
Luckily, Mason didn't seem fazed at first, but I was concerned that he wouldn't be particularly amenable after the novelty wore off. He'd had a fever for the last three days and would only eat and sleep on me - all day, every day. Within seconds, he found his favorite car toy that he had found at Monday's Orientation Day (I swear he's got wheel-dar!) and seemed to not have a care in the world. When he stopped paying attention to us, we knew that it was our window. I kneeled down on the floor to give him a quick kiss goodbye and 'I love you' in hopes that that would suffice for comforting for the next 4 hours of my absence. Michael did the same and, hesitantly, we left. The door had hardly closed when the tears erupted. "My baby! My baby is in there and I'm driving away without him! What kind of mother am I?"
Having been lucky enough to be a SAHM for the first six months of his life and then finding my dream job, which allowed me to bring him to work, you could say I'm used to having him around. And I suddenly missed him. We got on the freeway and in the 12 mile drive back to town (yeah, I know, another hurdle, but I think it will be worth it) and my guilt slowly melted away. I forced myself to not think about him and his sweet face crying in agony for hours on end. This was school, it will be a positive experience, right? They learn everything they know in the first 6 years of life, so every second counts, right?
Once I got to work and dove in to the milieu of tasks ahead of me it was easy, but on the 12 mile drive to pick him up, in the silence of my car, I imagined arriving and finding his face bright purple and his voice hoarse from all the crying for hours on end.
When I got there (5 minutes ahead of time, of course!), he was sound asleep on his little cot with his blanket. WHAT?!? This kid has nary fallen asleep without the aid of a boob, a car, or an Ergo in the past year and he is sleeping of his OWN volition on a cot in a strange classroom? The teachers had said that usually the activities and "work" they do tires the kids out. He was definitely whooped, but I was astonished. Maybe this school thing is an OK idea?
The best part of the day was reading his "report card" (see Michael's blog) which listed his mood, activities he did, what he ate, if he pee'd in the potty. Reading "He is incredibly sweet and easy going!" and "He loved going down the slide! He liked pushing the big cars" warmed my heart. Mason was already out there in the big, wonderful world of possibility and didn't need me (all the time) and that little feeling of letting go - like I felt when he had his first bottle and we had our first date - eased off of my shoulders. He would be OK.

Clothes make a man

At my recent bi-annual pilgrimage to Wee Trade (aka cotton-plastic consignment gluttony at the Ag Center) and barely surviving 2 1/2 hours later with a) my limbs b) a relatively content 14-month old (blueberries were key distractions) and c) a bank account still in the black, I mused over my diligence, nay, obsession with creating a well-rounded wardrobe for my little guy and the lengths I go to to save money doing so. This had been my fourth time attending, after hearing about it from a mother who sold us our glider rocker before Mason was born. Intrigued, I headed there, 7 months pregnant, trying to buy what I thought he might wear in the early months of life with hardly any clue other than what looked cute (i.e. not much). I staunchly refuse to pay full price for any baby clothes (not more than $5 and maybe $10) since they consist of less than a yard of fabric, will inevitably see holes and dirt, and will last no more than 6 months. Finding this little baby supply Mecca was a major score.
For the first few months, Mason already had plenty of outfits, without even trying. After the baby showers and grandparent visits came the overabundance of 0-3 month clothes, which, for us, could have clothed at least three babies. We found it was the most popular baby gift, probably because, like ourselves, it is just impossible not to buy little outfits with dog appliques on butts and giraffe prints. After he was born, we soon found that babies tend to grow out of clothes incredibly fast, so all the things we dutifully collected from friends and family (and subsidized ourselves) became obsolete after two months. We learned which clothes were appropriate and utilitarian (Gerber onesies) and ridiculous (buttons, zippers, overalls) and soon honed our craft and our eye for how little Mason was furthermore to be dressed.
I have made a concerted effort to choose non-gender-specific clothes. Why wouldn't he want to wear pink? Why would he want to wear cowboys? Our choices now could affect his whole attitude towards clothes positively or negatively! I decided, after endless searches through consignment stores and catalogues that stripes and the occasional applique were "safe" and gender-neutral, as best possible. Granted, the striped outfits were namely in the primary color scheme, heavy on the blue, but at least they weren't camo, trucks, "Mama's Boy," or Gap-logo'd outfits.
Part of the new parenting process was also learning to de-code baby outfit lingo (did NOT know what "premie" clothes meant) and different stores' niche and their specific sizing (a 3-6 at one is a 6-12 at another). Gap and Old Navy were good quality basics - sweats, jeans, and fleece outfits, but tended to be on the small side. Gymboree had the full wardrobe look with sweater/shirt/romper/onesie/pant/sock/hat thematic outfits, though sized appropriately. Carter's (the Babies 'R Us brand) hedged on stereotypically boy clothing, but occasionally offered the cute find. Zutano's had a very European feel, but tended to be small and had way too many buttons (I mean, really, have they ever changed a very unhappy baby with a poopie bottom and thought that, yes, taking the extra 30 seconds to undo 3 buttons made sense for their target market?) Janie and Jack and The Children's Place screamed "I'm-a-future-Ivy-League-er," but were awfully cute. Thank god I didn't have to deal with trying to avoid pink, ruffles, and bunnies - it might just be impossible to shop gender-neutral for a girl!
I admit that, overall, the experience of putting together a season's worth of outfits is fun and also have realized that Mason looks like mini-us. I can't think of anything more comfortable than a pair of jeans and a warm fleece. Michael adores his plaid BR dress shirts and "dress" denim. For the Fall/Winter 09 collection, I dutifully scanned eBay for cost-comparison ahead of time and worked out how many of each separate I would need (10 shirts, 7 pants, 3-4 fleece/sweaters, 1 jacket, mittens, a couple short and long sleeved onesies for the fall/spring and, of course, real shoes). I decided my plan of action was to have a color scheme in mind, so I could mix and match (remember, primary colors?). It was easy - fall means browns, oranges, blues, and a few greens and red for good measure. After sifting through the Wee Trade maelstrom of clothing racks (seriously THOUSANDS of clothes, not to mention the toys, high chairs, strollers, books, cribs, etc) I came out with pretty much what I'd wanted. But I wasn't even one of the true thrifters - they were the ones dragging around 40-gallon tupperware containers overflowing with clothes, though I did return on Sunday afternoon when everything was half off and got another cache of goods. My mom would be proud - Gymboree overalls for $3, Merrell shoes for $4, Old Navy fleece hoodie and pants for $2, but it was also overwhelming, borderline dangerous, and maybe not worth the $1 or $2 saved on each item. But, like a good hunter/forager, I'm sure I'll be back there in February and in the meantime, Mason has a very style-savvy Uncle who keeps him in kickin' threads. Really...he LOVES Jasper Hearts Wren Sasquatch!