I Can’t Compete with Daycare

Darren is bored.

The Hubby and I finally have a day off together on a weekday so daycare was not necessary today.

Pretty sure Darren would beg to differ.

He love’s daycare. There is constant action, little ladies loving him up and cater to his every whim, and of course, the coolest toys ever. Sounds like a baby rap video right? All of these things are lacking in our home environment.

I never knew it until today. Ok. Lying. I knew that home and daycare were two different environments. But when your child is at daycare for eight plus hours a day five days a week, the hubby and I thought that tons of toys, little girls who weren’t sisters (any other type of girls, in my opinion, are banned until he moves out) weren’t necessary. 

How wrong were we? Daycare is stiff competition.

By six this morning Darren was taking his fist nap of the day. By seven-thirty he's awake and wily.  By nine he’s screeching to keep himself amused. Ten-thirty he’s settled down for his second nap (his choice not mine). Twenty minutes later he’s bright and bushy-eyed for the hubby who is just officially waking up for the morning.

By this time I realize it might be a long day for all of us. 

Three hours and a twenty minute outside excursion later, I have a pounding tension headache and I am more than ready for Darren to take nap number three. 

Then he starts nodding off while eating his bananas.

Insult and relief are at war within me. I know we are a low key when we are at home, but seriously?  He never falls asleep if food is present. I am relieved as I lay down with him, but spend ten minutes critically questioning my parenting priorities.

Priority #1: purchase more toys. When you have to resort to using the TV to keep a six month old amused you are definitely lacking in the toy department.

Priority #2: Have more children. I will admit that my son appreciates the little ladies at daycare and would pick them to play with over me any day. I refuse to duel with them. My solution is to provide him with build in playmates. Mama trumps all when it comes to these kinds of decisions.

My Child is Blessed

I went to church on Sunday.

I know big surprise. 

I felt like I hadn’t gone in ages, but with all the hub-bub of the fall over and a lucky day off of work, I took advantage of the opportunity to hear the good Lord’s word.

It is a small country church and because I’m black I knew my presence would be a slight distraction. I usually don’t use the latter as an excuse, but it’s perfectly fitting for the situation. I know this because the first time I made an appearance (about two months ago) three old bittities in the back two rows brought their heads together so fast I thought at least one of them would emerge with some sort of concussion.

Because I had Darren with me I knew it would be double distraction. It would help if he wouldn’t ham it up for the audience, but he never fails to put on a show.  As we walk in he’s all big eyes and squeals. Then he starts playing peek-a-boo with the people in the pew behind us.

Surprisingly, he toned it down once the service started. 

The service was not without one epic fail on my part though. The pastor had invited me to take communion with the rest of the congregation; I was super excited about this. Firstly, because I hadn’t had communion in months and secondly, Darren would be able accompany me while to took the sacraments. 

The fail comes from my seat selection. One word of  advice, if you are a visitor in a church and are to partake in church-going activities; pick a pew where you are not the first person to leave the pew. In other words, make sure you sit it the very back so you know what to do when it comes to communion.  

Being the one and only person (besides Darren) in my pew, I made an awkward walk down the aisle to line up for communion. Highly embarrassing. Faithful church goers understand what I mean.

There was an epic win of the service to make my seating fail less significant. The pastor blessed Darren when he went up with me for communion.

I LOVE this about old country churches. 

It is something I remember my pastor doing to me before I was confirmed and it something that I’ve wished my old church had done.  There is something poignant about the gesture. Maybe it is because of the bible story where Jesus rebukes the disciples for keeping the little children from him; saying if we all were to have faith like a child, that we would understand the Word of God more.  

What I do know is it makes me feel like my child has a place in the church. I know that he may screech at inappropriate times, but he is there for a reason; to subconsciously soak up the Word of God.

God’s blessing, though the pastor, is a keepsake that I hold on to to build my child’s faith for years and years to come.

Granted I had some wild visions of Darren protesting the gesture or trying to drool all over the pastor’s fingers, but he was calm (another epic win). He looked up at the pastor briefly, but overall unconcerned. 

Yeah, he may not have understood the significance of the gesture. But as a parent, it is reassuring to know that you child is blessed.

The Healing Powers of Kettle Corn

So yesterday ended pretty crappy and to be honest this morning didn’t start any better. 

I woke up tired; again. I am still waiting to have my imminent crying jag; any day now please. AND the Hubby’s phone went to voicemail all morning; cue in mini panic attack.  

So to put it on the light side, I was crabby and not wanting to deal with people. Period.

The good news is, I survived.

All because of Angie’s Kettle Corn. The perfect blend of salt and sweetness made my day end in perfection.

I am not a blogger who shamelessly promotes giveaways to boost my traffic. (I really should think about it though, it would make using Google’s AdSense worth it.) But I will promote healthy yummy delicious treats that turn awful days into heaven and turn the devout non-snacker in a guilt-free snack junkie.

I have to give all my credit to my co-worker Pammy. She brought her left over Halloween treats (Angie’s Carmel Kettle Corn) to work early this week. I about had a conniption. I hadn’t had Angie’s in ages.

So after my crappy morning this morning, I was in for a treat. As I meandered around the grocery picking up WIC items I spotted an Angie’s Kettle Corn display. I walked by the first time, telling myself I really didn’t need anything to eat.

Five seconds and two aisles later, I had rationalized my way to buying myself a treat.

I deserved a little something. I hadn’t really smiled all day. My eyeballs felt like they were rolling around on cotton balls, I paid bills, played gopher for my boss, and my husband was (and still is) in Vegas. I definitely had earned a treat.

My hand hesitated, when it saw the price. $2.28 per bag. Only for a second though, Angie’s Kettle Corn is definitely worth two dollars and twenty-eight cents. And if I had to rationalize it, I could say I was supporting a local business and eating healthy. I was going to talk myself into a bag either way.

I even gave the bag the privilege of sitting in the passenger seat all the way home. With my first sweet and salty bite, that bag of kettle corn had earned that privilege. It took my stress level from ten to zero in seconds.

It also helped that the hubby if finally turned his phone back on and we had a pretty good talk and that I was going to see Darren’s face in thirty minutes time.

But the fact that the laundry got folded straight out of the dryer? That was definitely the Angie’s.  Only magic can make me do something like that.

Romance novels be damned, I need to get me a stash of Angie’s Kettle Corn. That and a little more of that face below.