Happy Tuesday morning!
um….what happened to your hair?
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Tag Archives: Elena
changes, they are a comin’
I think there are at least a few people in this world who adapt to change better than I do. Wait, scratch that. I’m sorry to say that I have no idea what the world’s population is off the top of my head, but let’s just say that if it’s 609 zillion people – there are probably 603 zillion of them who accept change better than I do. Now, that’s not to say that I’m inflexible, but I do like to stay the course, if possible. For instance, whenever we go to Muchas Gracias for dinner, I always get a cheese enchilada and chicken taco. Why? Because it’s a sure (read: safe) bet.
Believe it or not, the same goes when it comes to matters involving parenting. Stability: good. Change: often not quite as good. When Ian came along, we lived in the Washington, D.C. area where you are more likely to see a politician acting like a mature adult than you are to get a spot for your baby at a daycare. It’s commonly known there that if you have any hope of getting your child into a “decent” daycare – meaning they at least feed them at some point during the day – you had better start going on tours and getting on wait lists before you get pregnant. Wait until conceive and you’ve already missed the boat. That’s all to say that it can be a beyond-stressful process to locate a place where you a) feel comfortable leaving your child and b) can actually get a spot to park them.
tulle skirts and painted toenails
Jeff and I decided with both Ian and Elena that we did not want to find out their sex before they were born. While there were different reasons we chose this path for ourselves, one of my personal reasons was that I didn’t care to have all the questions, comments and stereotypes that would come along with it:
Oh, you’re having a girl! How exciting…you’ll have one of each! And now you get to buy all those cute clothes! (or insert female stereotype of your choice here)
or, conversely
Oh, a boy! How exciting…boys have so much energy! (or insert male stereotype of your choice here)
That said, I admit that before Ian was born – I wondered sometimes that if it was a boy (which I highly suspected from the beginning, by the way), would I relate to him as well as I would a girl given that, well, I am indeed a “girl” myself? But this was also part of the reason why I didn’t want to know. Because I didn’t need that extra time to second guess how I’d be as the mother of a boy. And sure enough, when Ian was born at Virginia Hospital Center the afternoon of January 10, 2006, he wasn’t a boy. He wasn’t a girl. He was my firstborn child and he was the most wonderful thing I had ever seen.
curls
tick tock
This morning I was actually sweating when I got in the car to pull out of the garage. A little morning workout before heading to the office, you ask? Nah. I mean, who needs Richard Simmons when you have Elena? Every morning feels like a race against the clock (and my toddler) to get out the door – and let’s just say I’m rarely the winner. This morning was certainly no exception.
It all begins innocently enough – a shower, a cup of coffee, throw some bread in the toaster for Elena and Ian (who is already downstairs and looking at me longingly for some food), grab some cereal, pour two cups of milk, start to get together the things for my lunch. You know, same gig, different day. Once I’ve got things well underway, it’s time to wake up the littlest Burpo. I opened the door, set to pick out the clothes for the day, and find her sitting there quietly in her crib with an unpleasant smell permeating through the room. Oh jeez. As soon as she saw me, she immediately started pointing down with an innocent “Uh oh. Uh oh. Uh oh!” I won’t go into gory details, but any parent knows what I’m talking about and “uh oh” isn’t what I felt like saying as I’m looking at the clock. Tick tock, tick tock. Luckily Jeff, who was about to head out to drop Ian off at school and then take off for a few days on business, was still downstairs. I certainly didn’t want him to miss out on the clean-up fun so I kindly requested he come up. He worked on the wall – exclaiming something about Elena needing to eat fewer berries -while I got her changed, both of us washed up and downstairs to corral her in the chair for breakfast. Tick tock, tick tock. Meanwhile, I headed back up to get things soaking in the laundry sink.
burpo banter 