Status Report.

I know you're all waiting with bated breath (*cough cough*) so, here's the deal.

Warren was fine yesterday. He cried for a few minutes when I left, but he always does that. He soon settled in and played with the other kids and napped a lot.
At drop off, I mentioned that I don't let him watch TV, so he's not allowed TV at daycare either. The daycare lady said that was no problem.
I called during the day to see how he was doing. Marticia (daycare lady) was out picking up a kid from school, so her daughter Ureshra (I swear to god. Ureshra. Although, I'm not 100 percent on the proper spelling...) was in charge of the kiddos. She told me Warren was doing just fine, had napped, then eaten some lunch and was happily...watching TV.
I was really upset during the rest of the day, thinking that she was just going to ignore everything I said, and I'm essentially paying someone to park my kid in front of the tube for 9 hours a day. So, fuck that.

But then I breathed for a few minutes and started thinking rationally. If she was going to ignore my instructions, would Ureshra have been so cavalier in telling me about it? Probably not. So, benefit of the doubt, the message didn't get passed along to Ureshra and I'll remind Marticia about it a few times and see if it sticks.

And when I went to pick him up, he was passed out cold, which is how Warren usually deals with stressful days. He was fine, happy, well-fed and smiling at the kids and the adults while we packed up and left.

So, we'll give this a few weeks and see how it feels. If I'm still concerned my instructions are being ignored, we'll find somewhere else. And in the meantime, he'll be fine. As my older sister reminded me, I had my reservations about Nana's at first too.

I was reading through some comments from the other day, and my dear darling Nathalie reminded me that I had to trust my gut, and that I know my kid best. Both excellent points. For normal people. Problem being, my gut is often not operating on instinct or even rationality. Or maybe I just can't tell my gut from my sick sense of paranoia. So, maternal instincts? Not so much. Gory imagination? More likely. Someone doesn't call me when they are supposed to, I immediately fly to "This person is obviously dead on the roadside." Sound healthy or reasonable? Welcome to my brain. Or maybe it's just way too many Law and Order re-runs. Screw it, who can resist the charms of Lenny Briscoe, and Detective Stabler? Not this broad.

And that, my friends, is the state of the Warren Daycare Union.

And now I have to let you in on a glimpse of what being married to me is like.
The other night I was getting ready to make dinner. Since my home has about one square foot of useable counter space, a few minutes are spared to tidy the kitchen. Whilst tidying, I found the tops to some tupperware type containers, just sitting on the counter.
And I started building a head of steam. It starts with harsh thoughts and eventually leads to some muttering: "Goddamnit, why must we leave shit all over the counter? Is it SO HARD to put things where they belong? OH NO! This is even dirty. Just throw it in the sink! Fucking A!"
Now, usually this is where I start actually yelling at other people, mostly Xtian (because he is legally bound to like me).
Just as I opened my mouth to start the tirade I realized, much to my shame, I was the asshole who left the tupperware on the counter.

I'm a total jerk. But lest you think I'm a nagging harridan, and too hard on Xtian, I did immediately confess my retardedness. It's a good thing I cook, put out, and make cute babies. Why else would anyone ever stay married to me?