Open Letter

[As a general rule, I do not write about work. But, this post is an exception because: 1) it has nothing to do with my actual profession, 2) it includes no identifying information of colleagues or “clients”, and 3) it’s nothing that hasn’t been said out loud at work. Enjoy.]

To the gentlemen who share our office bathroom,

When you have finished making your deposits, could you be so kind as to return the toilet seat to its original position? It is my lot in life to sit upon said seat during my regular business meetings. It follows that it is your lot in life to lift and then replace the toilet seat if you insist on asserting your right to stand through your business meetings.

Your attention to this matter is greatly appreciated.

Sincerely,
Kate Lippoldt

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To the Toilet in our Shared Office Bathroom,

We acknowledge the hard work you do on a daily basis. It is important business and we could not get by without you. However, we have noticed that your performance is a little sub-par. It can be rather awkward to encounter someone else’s deposits. Worse, it can be somewhat embarrassing to have to flush multiple times – within earshot of the office – when there is no real or substantial reason for it. We think you catch our meaning. Would it be too much to ask for you to “step up your game”? Perhaps the mantra “One Flush Is Enough” will help you to refocus your energies.

Thank you,
The Office

School Days

So, I’m back to work going on 12 days, and I’ve yet to mention what Zoë has been up to all this time.

Partway through last school year, I started to notice how tired my mom was looking each day when I arrived to pick up Zoë. She was always chipper, but definitely appeared as if she was about to drop into a long nap. Chasing after a toddler all day long, roughly 25 years after she last had to do it, was taking its toll. We made a group decision that Zoë needed to spend her days elsewhere once the summer ended. I’d been toying with the idea long before that simply because of the driving. The driving was making me insane. I was a crazy person to think that I’d be able to maintain that ridiculousness. Have I not told you? Yeah – I would leave work; drive 30 minutes to get Z, then another 45-60 back home. In rush-hour traffic, in the same direction as the rush. It was joy served up on a silver platter with bacon on the side. Let me tell you.

Right around her first birthday, I registered Zoë for a daycare placement very close to work and, more importantly, between my house and work. It came highly recommended by my good pal, Anne, and my brief visits gave me a good vibe. Spot secured.

As my first day back grew closer, I decided pretty quickly that we were going to present this to Zoë in terms of “school”. Momma works at a school, big kids go to school, no Zoë will be going to school. Plus, she can say the word. I don’t expect to hear “daycare” come out of her mouth anytime soon. We went for a visit the week before she started and all went well! She loved pulling out all the toys, she was interested in the other kids, and got right into the groove of circle time. I was so proud of her!

Yes, the actual transition – Momma has to leave now to go to work – was tough. Thank goodness I started back on a Wednesday. By Friday afternoon, she was toast. And not a nice, crispy, golden toast; blackened, hard toast that might be salvageable if you scrape it gently with a knife. She was stressed. Out. Completely. Her teachers actually reported that she was doing well, by most standards. She would cry for a while when I left, then get occupied and have fun for a couple of hours, then some more tears around her nap . . . But she was actually getting something out of her day. Again, so proud of my girl.

Come Monday morning, I wasn’t sure if it would be harder or easier. She’d been home for the weekend – maybe she thought last week was just a fluke? When I packed her in the car, her expression seemed to be one of resignation: “OK, we’re going to school.” She was a little tired, a little cranky, but she had also spent the weekend cutting molars. I said as much to her teachers and was off.

And on Zoë’s fourth day of school, she ran a temp of 102.3.

OK – when I got the phone call I felt like the world’s most brilliant mother. “I just sent my kid to school sick!” Beyond that, I was completely freaked out. Believe it or not, Zoë had never run a fever before. I mean N.E.V.E.R.. This was high, wasn’t it? Should I call the doctor? What do I do?

By the time I got to the school to get her (15 minutes from the time I got the call), her temp had dropped to 100. Her teachers, with their infinite wisdom (I kid you not – these women know their stuff), calmed my fears. Since it had come down so quickly, it was probably just a slight fever from the teething and only spiked because she had just woken up from her nap (Zoë is her father and becomes a blast furnace when she sleeps). They told me to watch it over the evening; keep her home if it’s still above normal, bring her back if it stays down. Phew.

Zoë was fine. She was still pretty conked out all evening, and a little warm, but no real fever. Come the morning, she was right as rain and actually excited about going to school.

A little over a week later, and Zoë is downright antsy to leave for school in the mornings. She gives me a kiss, says “Bye Momma”, and then trots off to play with her friends and teachers. When I pick her up, it’s all I can do to pull her away from whatever it is they’re doing. Then she says “Bye” to each person in turn – no joke – looks up at me, says, “Home,” and walks out with me. I am so glad that she enjoys her time there so much and is so comfortable. And I am so proud!

A Synopsis of Our Summer

Now I'm back at work, and I'll probably once again spend a few lunch hours posting a little more regularly, I thought I'd run-down our summer. It went by in a blur and I think, even had I been keeping a detailed record, I'd have a hard time describing what all went on. So, in (longish) short:
o Thinking I'd get back in shape and get some regular exercise, I joined a local Masters Swim Club. I got up at 5 in the morning my first week off and hit the pool. My first work-out was awesome. I ached, but in a good, get-in-shape way. My second work-out was going along, well, swimmingly. Until partway through my IM set my shoulder kinked up doing freestyle. I stopped. Within a few hours, it had spread along my shoulder and up my neck. I was in pain for the next month. I didn’t go back to the pool (the coached practices were cancelled anyway before my next work-out due to low enrollment).
o Brookfield Zoo is great. It’s even better when you have a zoo pass. The best $100 I’ve spent all year. We have gone 5 or 6 times, I think, since May. Zoë has learned and practiced all sorts of animal names and sounds. The ape house is her all-time favorite (“More! More!”), with the bear grotto a close second. Some of the highlights were: the splash park outside the penguin exhibit; Zoë barking at the wolf (the coolest – you have to see the wolf exhibit at Brookfield because there is a window into their den); the polar bear cub; Zoë chasing the river otter back and forth as he swam; and Zoë standing 2 inches from a leopard without getting scared (yes, there was glass).
o Gymboree every Wednesday morning (thank you, thank you Deb!), usually followed by lunch with Dada at Noodles. First off, you would never have suspected that Zoë was the youngest in her class (16-22 month olds). In fact, when some of her “friends” moved up a level, their parents asked me when Zoë would be moving up – “We’ll see you at level 5 next week?” It was more than just her size. She is a daring little girl . . . and, apparently, pretty-well coordinated. Of course, she doesn’t exactly hold a conversation like a near-two-year-old. Ha ha! But the regular social interaction, the songs and games, running and climbing . . . she needed it and you could almost see her braining learning and growing. Literally, she would watch the other (older) children do something one week, and the next week she’s doing it herself. It made me a little more excited for daycare in the fall.
o The Civic Center. Even if we had bad luck. I bought a pool pass at the start of this summer (a total deal, especially since Zoë didn’t need one) and we visited several times. Their zero-depth play area is fantastic and it was a fight every time we had to get out for the 5-minute break. But, one time we met Foster and his mom, a thunderstorm/downpour started shortly after we arrived. Another time they lost power to their pumps. In the same visit, their ice cream machines were down. Then, it got so hot Zoë refused to go outside for more than 3 minutes (“Hot. Hot.”). Maybe after work tomorrow . . .
o Playdates with Ella and Lizzie, Foster, Laia, Ari and Quin, Katelyn . . . sometimes it was really that the mommas needed to talk about something, but it was great knowing my kid had someone to distract her.
o Inappropriate use of backyard play equipment. Specifically, using the Little Tikes plastic slide as a water slide into the inflatable pool. When I didn’t have the energy to pack up for the pool, or I knew Zoë wouldn’t have the tolerance to make the drive worth it, the backyard pool was the best. And she could go down that slide three hundred times without tiring of it.
o No Travel. As much as I like to get out of town, a road trip with a hyperactive toddler did not sound like fun. We did enough driving just for daytrips and playdates.
o Yes, BJ and did spend some alone time and got out for adults only nights. It was nice, summery, but not all that newsworthy.
o Harry Potter. Yeah, it bears mentioning. I saw Order of the Phoenix a couple of times and enjoyed it (was sorry the book was so long that a lot had to end up cut out). I went to The Party That Shall Not Be Named in the Nap – fun girls' day with Anne, but there was some grief that this is it. Then I arranged with BJ to have him watch Zoë long enough for me to finish Deathly Hallows. It took me roughly 15 hours. I cried, I cringed, and I’m satisfied. If you want to discuss it in more depth, give me a call.

Best Laid Plans . . . or some such nonsense

You’d have thought – with roughly two months off, no extra-curriculars to coach, and a slightly more self-sufficient child – that I would have time to do at least a little blogging this summer. What the hell happened?

I had this gorgeous idea, going into the summer, that I would have all sorts of time to do stuff. My quilting projects, some video editing, photography, bellydance . . . a little of all of it. For sure, I thought, I would be able to do some frequent posting about all our summer adventures, Zoë and I. I must have been smoking crack. Or delusional. I knew I was being ambitious. That was a major underestimation.

At the very start of this summer, Zoë decided to drop down to one nap. Okay, fine. I had been expecting her to keep two through the summer, but whatever. I could deal with that. What I hadn’t counted on, somehow (remember, I was delusional), was how much attention and energy her little 15-month-old self would require. I mean, demand. From the moment she woke up it was go-time. We would be off and running until nap time, at which point she would just conk out.

Now, theoretically, nap time would be the time I could use to get some of that stuff done. Unfortunately, I spent most of it doing trivial things like eating, making phone calls, dishes, laundry, weeding or watering the garden. It’s ridiculous how fast an hour can go by doing what feels like nothing. Just as I would sit down to accomplish some of the stuff I would hear a little voice ringing out from upstairs. And then we’re off and running again until bedtime!

At one point this summer, I arranged to have my mom watch Zoë a couple of times so I could get to work on the stuff. On one day in particular, it was my goal to sand and paint two barstools my dad got at a garage sale. I was going to spray paint them, so not a huge project for a day. By the time I dropped Zoë off, got home, ran back out to Home Depot for a random tool I didn’t know I needed (stupid Canadian-made barstools), got home, ran back out for a quick lunch, got home again . . . I got one coat of paint on one stool before I had to pick her up. That was a month ago. Seriously.

I sound like I’m complaining about my summer. That it was all just frustration at not being able to do what I wanted to do. Truthfully, I had a total blast this summer. Yeah, I got nothing done. Nothing except some of the most amazing moments with Zoë to date. She grew up so much this summer, learned so many new things, and I got to see it all. It’s silly to say, but I really felt like I had something to do with all she learned for once. Because I was there. And not at work.

But, I wasn’t blogging about it. Oh well.

As a sort of post-script, part of the issue was my sad little personal laptop. I got it all hooked up in the kitchen so I could attempt to check my email and do an occasional post while she ate or watched Dora. Turns out the wireless card is so old it wouldn’t connect to our new router. And, go figure, we have plenty of other things to spend some money on besides a new card. Plus, BJ didn’t feel like putting service pack 2 on the laptop. C’est la vie.