Baby blues or I’ve got too much time on my hands

You may, or may not, have noticed that my posting has been erratic lately… well, I actually have a valid (ish) reason this time. My kids started preschool last week. Scuola Materna, is what it’s called in Italy (translates directly into maternal school, which I think is kind of cute), and, though not mandatory is still when most Italian kids start school. So it’s a very emotional time. Very emotional. It gets even more emotional when you’re set to get your period. I’m just saying. So, the Girl, who’s turning three in November, started Scuola Materna this year (the Boy started last year) and I officially don’t have any babies in the house any longer. Or such is the sentiment that’s been pervasive in my mind all week…

Kissing her brother goodbye

She was very grown up about it, on Monday and Tuesday she went by herself, then the “big kids”, her brother included, started on Wednesday. She only cried once, and she was very proud of her new school smock (which they wear over their clothes at Scuola Materna, so it’s kind of like a uniform, but not), and she was thrilled to go to “the big kid school”. I, on the other hand, have been sniffling all week.

walking to school

in the classroom with her smock on, looking a bit sad…

When I had the Girl I assumed we would have more babies, then the husband got sick and now we would have to be highly motivated to have more babies if we wanted them. We can’t have them the traditional way (wink, wink) anymore, and though we do have a vial of “material” sitting around in a sperm bank somewhere, we’re not sure any of us would survive me having to go through all the hormones that come with assisted fertilization. I can barely deal with the hormones my own body produces.

So the Girl starting preschool this year, made me face the fact that maybe we’re done with babies, and I’m not sure I want to be done with babies. Okay, so she hasn’t actually been a baby for a while, she was a toddler, but you know what I mean right? She’s started on the long road to independence from me, my mornings are free, they’re out of diapers (during the day), I can sell my strollers, I don’t have babies anymore. Am I ready not to have babies anymore?

both of them off to school on wednesday in their smocks

I would have liked to go through my last pregnancy knowing it was my last pregnancy… sounds ridiculous, I know. What with so many people not being able to have kids at all, and others with more kids than they can handle, I’m sitting here whining, when I already have two, and a boy and a girl at that. I’m pretty lucky.

I’m just not sure I’m ready to close up shop, by the same token though, I’m not a hundred percent sure I’m ready to start again, with the added hassle of ivf… how confusing. Of course, I had no guarantee of having more babies even if the husband hadn’t gotten ill, but now I know for certain I won’t be waking up one morning wondering why my period’s late, and that makes me a little sad. And yeah, maybe I’m being excessively self-indulgent, maybe I’m making it more complicated than it actually needs to be, but still, sometimes I feel like I’m mourning the babies I didn’t get to have.

Monday listicle the days of yore

Stasha’s Listicle this week calls for us to list ten things school, any ten things school… Stasha, really, you shouldn’t be giving us this much freedom!

My kids start school next week, preschool, most everyone goes to preschool in Italy so the general feeling when they’re three is the same as what you get in the US when they start kindergarten. FREEDOM! (evidently a recurring theme today.)

But, as we’re on vacation this week, enjoying the last few days at the beach under a torrential rain, I’m not really in the “back to school” mind set yet. I’ll likely be writing a tear jerking post next week about how “my baby is all growed up”, but right now I’m more concerned with ending cabin fever syndrome by taking off for the aquarium in Montecarlo. Also, and completely unrelated, yesterday I accidentally found (i.e. googled) an old high school boyfriend who had seemingly dropped off the face of the earth. This convoluted confluence of events led to the following listicle:

Boys from school

1. the first memory I have of a boy at school was in the third grade, his name was Jack and he had a crush on me, I learned of this crush because he kept asking me to chase him and then look up my skirt. Having just arrived to the US, this was all very “foreign” to me. Sadly a few days later he was shimmying up more interesting skirts than mine.

2. my first real “friend who’s a boy” was in the sixth grade, Jeremy, we went to school together all through middle and high school and are still friends to this day. At some point or another we both had a crush on the other, but the stars never aligned correctly and we never had a crush on the other at the same time (that we know of).

3. my first kiss was in the eighth grade, at school, behind the admin building. It was wet, and very quick and I ran away giggling delightedly with my best friend right after, wiping my mouth profusely on my school uniform sleeve. This is why I’m so shocked to hear of all the six graders having varied degrees of sex nowadays, this boy was my “boyfriend” for over a year and the most he saw was a boob.

4. my first boyfriend was a year younger than me, I was a sophomore and he was a freshman, though we were the same age (I was the youngest in my class by a stretch), this of course didn’t mean anything and I was called a “cradle robber” for the rest of high school. I broke up with him the summer prior to my senior year because I thought I was too mature to go out with a younger guy and he rode his bike to my house every day for weeks delivering flowers and cards. I was an idiot. I later changed my mind but he was dating a new, foreign girl, and I pined after him for my entire senior year (with much hilarity from my classmates) Incidentally, he’s the one I recently googled, he’s a neurosurgeon (typical) and, though bald, still cute.

5. my senior year I dated a series of losers, college losers, which, somehow, in retrospect, is all the worse. I was the object of a classmate’s crush, a good friend who contributed tremendously in my passing the IB exams (he’s now a classics professor at some northeastern university), and with whom I acquiesced to attend the prom. Since I was a monstrous idiot (i.e. teenager) then, I effectively ruined both his and my prom, but thankfully he hasn’t held a grudge.

I’m capping my little list at 5, because though there were other boys (of course. Like one a week who held my interest for a few days for whom I would’ve “just died”, of course… fikleness thy name is adolescent girl.) these are the most significant ones. What this little walk down memory lane has done for me today is to mostly inspire terror at what my future holds as a mother of both a boy and a girl. God help us as we embark on this new school journey, from the other side.