I'm sure that blog etiquette dictates that one must blog on at the very least on a weekly basis as opposed to this 3 month lapse of mine. I've just been soooo busy. No really, you don't understand busy until you have a 1 year old. (As I type this, Ashiah has climbed onto the dining room table, helped herself to some trail mix, found the miscellaneous tray and put a battery, some nail clippers, 2 thumbtacks and some lipstick into her mouth. I quickly returned her to the floor but she's back up again and I'm about to give up writing to commence the bed-time ritual. She's very determined. After a temper tantrum and a wrestling match, Ashiah now only wearing her socks, is back up on the table. Is there such a thing as Terrible 1's? Or is she early? I'll try this again when she's in bed...
1.5 hrs later... where was I? Right. I really don't have time to write this now as I still have to study for the course I'm giving tomorrow, but what the heck. Let me tell you about today and you will suddenly understand how one day falls into the next and I barely have time to breathe sometimes let alone blog.
I'm teaching everyday this week, a 5-day work week (normally I work 3) and I'm teaching 4 courses, 3 of which bilingually, starting at 9:00AM. I've managed to be out the door by 8AM this week to drop Ashiah off at daycare as Greg is in Washington.
As I was about to leave this morning (at 8), no keys. Where are my keys? I never lose my keys. They are always on the front entrance table... until Ashiah steals them. Look everywhere... breathe... look everywhere... realize Ashiah has definitely taken them and hidden them... losing air ... panicking ... tears swelling... oh God, it's 8:30, I'm a mess, Ashiah's now crying and I have to tell my boss that I won't be there to teach in half an hour despite the 10 students waiting. Nightmare. She tells me to keep looking and maybe she'll send someone to come get me. She tells me to be calm and compose myself yet her voice is high-pitched and she's speaking very quickly and sounds like she's out of breath. I feel awful for stressing her out like this.
I keep looking. My house now looks as though it's been burglarized. I've looked EVERYWHERE. I'm on my hands and knees thinking like a one year old... where would I put them if I were 1. Despondent I finally try calling a taxi and they tell me it's 25 mins to get to me. I tell them it takes me 20 to get to Ottawa and they are leaving from Hull (closer). Fine, I'll think of something else.
I call the daycare and they so kindly agree to come and pick Ashiah up for me. Great! One down. I then call my neighbor and she finds me a car, well a van for the day that I can borrow. (I have a rule about vans but who cares! I'd borrow a horse at this point!
So in the end I made it to work, 15 mins late, frazzled, but I made it. $70 later though. (I bought 3 bottles of wine, 2 for the families who helped with the car situation, 1 for my fabulous daycare couple and 1 for ME and paid $20 gas for the van.) Yes, this is how much your child can cost you by playing with your keys.
I continued my search this evening. I scoured the kitchen, dining, laundry, living, and bath rooms, the front entrance and Ashiah's room. In the end, as I was changing her diaper, I thought to look behind the change table. Voila.
Advice to new moms or moms to be: buy a hook, don't leave keys on table.
Good thing she's cute. Very cute.
