Oh, the Monday Blues. I'm sitting here in my office (aka Blue Marble). I'm eating my feelings and drowning my sorrows in La Colombe Torrefaction , listening to some melancholy tunes by My Morning Jacket (I should probably switch over to the Beyonce station soon). We just dropped Avery off at daycare. And. She. Was. Screaming.
It's week two of the great daycare "transition," and I can't help but question if it's the right thing. We barely made it there in one piece, with a whirlwind morning of cleaning up a mud-ridden fur-baby from his morning park adventures (he just got groomed yesterday), followed by some frantic lunch packing, a bottle explosion in the backpack in transit to daycare, and a meltdown with real, big, baby tears upon arrival. Eric and I nearly sprinted out the door plugging our ears to keep from hearing poor Ms. Avery's heart-wrenching shrieks. Don't judge.
I tell myself this is just a transition, and maybe it's true. I know in my heart that sending Avery to daycare is the right thing to do. She can foster her creativity with art and music classes and perfect her downward dog during yoga class. She's surrounded by other babies her age and kind and gentle caregivers. This will help her to learn and grow. It allows me to grow my business and have a creative outlet. I need to work on not having "mom-guilt" about that (more on self-care and the unavoidable feelings of mom guilt here). Being able to have these few hours a day to work, write and create equals a happier mommy, and therefore a better mommy for the time I am with Avery.
I've heard the transition period is hard. When does it get easier? I know with our babysitter, it got a little easier each day. I'm hoping the same happens here, and I have faith that it will.
The more I think about it, I'm a pro at "transitions". I've been in a transition phase for almost two years - since getting pregnant with Avery. I still cannot wrap my head around the fact that my body grew another human being in it who now has her own thoughts, emotions and opinions. A little tiny person who is becoming a bigger and bigger girl, seemingly by the second.
Perhaps parenthood is one big transition. It's not easy. If anyone tells you it is, they are lying right to your face. Parenthood is an emotional roller-coaster. It's life-altering, tiring and messy. But so far, it's the best mess I have ever encountered. I'll take some spilt milk and tears over a quiet, empty sparkling petit a.p.t. any day (although I wouldn't mind if the chaos was a little more organized). There are some days (like today) that I have to remind myself this, and that the only constant about parenthood is that nothing is permanent. This too shall pass. It's one big phase after phase after phase.
When you're pregnant, you're transitioning. You're basically waiting to meet your child. You're getting ready for what's about to hit you over the head like a giant flying tub of Baby Aquaphor. When they're newborns, it's a transition. You're waiting for them to become more alert and self-sufficient. When that happens, you're waiting for them to smile and giggle, to sit up, to crawl. Then you're waiting for them to walk and talk. Before you know it, they're in daycare, then off to preschool. You'll receive some sprinkled in questions of "so when are you going to have another?" Um, what? I am just recovering from the first! I can barely get myself and my one child and dog out the door in the morning. I'm still totally scattered and my thoughts swim around in my head like a school of confused goldfish until I have a spare second to take a breather and put them down on paper.
You try and you try to find a groove, a schedule, only to learn to accept the fact that once you get into one, it will probably change. For type A's like myself, this is an overwhelming challenge. I hate to admit that I like everything to be perfect. I thrive on a good schedule. A typed up, color-coded one actually. (I heart organization - great blog to follow here if you do too!). The hardest part is letting that all fall to the wayside, and heart-ing the chaos instead. There's only so much you can control. The transition is an adventure, so it's time to hold on tight and enjoy the ride!
Speaking of, I'm excited to be working with an adorable family in a transition of their own. My little three-year-old client is getting her own big girl room as she waits for her new younger sibling to arrive. I get to decorate it - a total dream project. We're just in the beginning phases, but we've picked out a scheme and are waiting for some of the pieces to arrive so we can get going on the rest!
Below are two schemes I did that we didn't go forward with, although we loved them both. I can't wait to show you the one that we did choose, so stay tuned!
Vintage Eclectic
Colorful “boho” patterned vintage kilim rug as the focal point of the room, drawing on the blues/greens for the wall color. The mirror and pulls on the bed bring in a natural material, balanced by the mix of the metal lamp and acrylic side table. Fun mix of large and small scale patterns on bedding to pull together the colors without feeling too “matchy”.
Mid-Century Magic
Cool palette of grey and blues. Black bed to “anchor” room and tie in the client's existing black and white zebra rocking chair. Wooden mirrors bring in a natural accent for warmth. Ruffly bedding and light pink accent lamp bring a feminine touch without being overpoweringly girly.
How cute are these? I had so much fun putting both schemes together. And with a budget and a relatively small space (a good size for an NYC apartment), I welcomed the challenge with open arms.
So, here's to life being a transition. I hope this post helps to lift your Monday morning blues, even just a little. And if anyone has any words of comfort on leaving your crying baby at daycare, I'm all ears!
~L.S.