The Queen's Rambles

Up until 9 pm, I would have said our first two days of kindergarten were wonderful. Erik loved everything about it, as far as I can tell. Not that he tells me a darned thing. His mouth is always going, but he rarely tells me anything of importance. When I start asking questions he just starts copying me or saying “banana eyeball banana eyeball.” You can imagine how much I love that. If I’m really lucky he’ll throw in a “taco.”

Don’t ask me. I don’t even know.

He was so eager for the second day of kindergarten that he went to bed a half hour early just to make sure he woke up in time for the bus. I was hoping that would be a new trend, but tonight it all went to hell in a handbasket.

We did the usual bedtime routine. I gave him his kiss, hug and love yous and walked out of the room.

The hysterics started.

Full on hysterics.

At first I thought he was trying to be funny, but then I went in there and realized he was in a state of total meltdown.

After I finally got him settled down, we worked together to try to figure out what was wrong. Basically it was me asking him yes/no questions until he settled on one. Apparently he missed me. Awwwww, how sweet. But also how sad. My poor big baby boy.

I know he loves school, but it is such a long day away from home. I know it will get better. I am not even surprised. I was more surprised that he didn’t have a meltdown earlier. One of my neighbors had to physically drag her daughter to the bus stop this morning. She decided she didn’t need to go to school ever again.

I am so glad Erik is going to kindergarten and I know he will be successful, but I’m also feeling a lot of repressed stress about the whole thing. Last night I had a horrible nightmare that he was lost and when I finally thought I found him I turned him around to face me and it was a man. A man! I don’t need a psychiatrist to figure that one out.

So far I haven’t taken really good advantage of him being gone so long. Yesterday I went to the gym, a MOMS Club event, and then Elsa took a nap. Today was the gym and a marathon Elsa nap. I need to figure out how to put her down. Mike can do it, but I have always been a terrible sleeping-baby-putter-downer. She slept on me for three and a half (3 1/2) hours today! I was glad she was getting some sleep, but there was so much I could have done if she had been in a bed. Laundry! House cleaning! Computering!

Instead I watched a bunch of “Flashpoint” and “Torchwood.” I’m really loving “Flashpoint” so if you like police shows you might want to check it out. It shows what goes on behind the scenes of a hostage situation. Keith Mars (or Enrico Colantoni if you must) plays one of the main characters, so I was bound to like it.

Let me tell you about today’s BodyPump class. For those who don’t know, it’s a group weight lifting class. I love it. I never would have thought I could enjoy weight lifting, but they time everything to music so it goes a lot faster. It is all about endurance and repetition so men very rarely enjoy the class. In my experience men prefer to do really heavy weights and can’t handle doing five straight minutes of bicep curls or squats. They always have to show off and load up the weight, then they die before the song is even half-way through.

Well today we had two ginormous African-American men in the class. Seriously ginormous. I was wondering if they were with a local pro sports team, but why would pro athletes need to work out at the cheap gym?

They were pretty funny because they liked to talk and were trying to liven things up, but then they started moaning.

Oh. My. God. The moaning.

They wouldn’t stop.

Sometimes they would whoop instead of moan. Sometimes they would sing military chants. The noise never stopped.

At the end they told us that we were all a bunch of women (ummmm, we were) and we didn’t know how to work out because we didn’t make any noise.

I thought I was going to have to leave half-way through the workout because my ear drums felt like they were going to explode.

I have done a lot of reading about Sensory Processing Disorder and I don’t have it, but I would certainly say I have sensory sensitivities. It’s not a disorder because I have coping skills, but those men were twanging on my last nerve.