I'm not ready.

(Or Lila finds a new way to make Mommy insane)


"Lila, it's time for school.  You have to get up."
I'm not ready.
"Lila you have to eat some breakfast.  We need to get going."
I'm not ready.
"It's time to get dressed.  Come on.  We need to go in ten minutes."
I'm not ready.

"You have five minutes and then it will be time to go to the doctor."
I'm not ready.
"Can you get ready?"
I'm not ready to get ready.
"In five minutes you need to be ready."
I don't think I will be ready.

"Lila, it's time for dinner. Wash your hands."
I'm not ready.
"I need you to help me set the table."
I'm not ready.
"Well, it is time NOW so ready or not, I need you help me."
I'm not ready NOW.

"Lila, look at the clock.  In 5 minutes it's time for a bath."
I'm not ready.
"Right.  When the clock says 7:15 you need to be ready."
I'm not ready.
"Ok.  That's why I am telling you to watch the clock."
I'm not ready to watch the clock.
"Ok.  Well you have 5 minutes."
I won't be ready.

"We need to get your pajamas on and get ready for bed."
I'm not ready.
"ok.  Well, We have to do things we aren't ready for sometimes."
I'm not ready.
"Lila, if you don't get your pajamas on you don't get a bedtime snack."
I WANT MY SNACK RIGHT NOW!!!
"Well, I'm not ready."

Lila ruins everything

They say that imitation is the highest form of flattery.  Tell that to any mother of a preschooler and she'll tell you that it actually destroys worlds.

Every mom wants to share the things she loves with her children.  For example, a favorite song or book or movie. 

I used to love Joan Jett.  I have seen her in concert a few times and always thought of "I Love Rock and Roll" as the summation of my childhood (I was a strange kid).

Lila also loves that song.  In fact, she loves it so much that when I played the CD one time while driving her to the sitter, she "rocked out" through the whole song, then merrily shouted, "AGAIN!"  By the third time, she was singing along to the chorus and "OOOOOW"-ing in that high-pitched voice of hers.  Luckily, it only took 3 times to get where we were going.

But it didn't stop there.  She needed it every time we got into the car.  Some time around the 218th time in a row I heard it (and nothing else) while driving, I told her that I forgot the disc in the house.  A full-on heartbreak ensued and she cried the entire trip to the grocery store and back.  And even though I could have simply put it on because I was obviously lying, I didn't want her to know I was lying and so instead I endured her tears and whining.

Needless to say, I cringe when I hear it now. 

She did the same to my favorite color, which used to be purple.  Lila LOVES purple.  And after painting her room purple, and getting her purple sheets, a purple rug, purple curtains, a purple bookcase and pretty much any toy that contains purple in it, she started to insist on wearing something purple every single day.  We have A LOT of purple socks and underwear and she would only wear one pair of shoes (can you guess what they look like) every day if I would let her.

She has done this with Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, which was my favorite Disney movie.  I hate it now.  This happened with Tom and Jerry cartoons.  It happened with a children's book I kept around BEFORE I EVER EVEN THOUGHT I MIGHT HAVE A KID, Ferdinand the Bull, which Lila wore out in a matter of days.  It happens with foods, with games (I was thrilled the FIRST time she wanted to play Candyland.  The 7,586th time?  Not so much.). 

Because preschoolers are nothing if not obsessive.



(Image from  http://www.last.fm/music/Joan+Jett/+images/5113011)

SHIT...maybe next year.

Well, once again I have destroyed my chances of winning Mother of the Year. 

I really hate my days off work during the week.  Since I work part time at the gigantic downtown library and they don't have the budget to hire full time people, I have every Tuesday and Wednesday off of work.  Tuesdays are nice because the Kid goes to preschool in the morning until about 11:30 and it gives me time to get dressed and plan something for the rest of the day to occupy her so that she doesn't just whine and harass me all day.  Yesterday we hit the Barnes & Noble where she played with the trains (way more fun that the set we have at home for some reason), then played on the stage (she sang and danced for no one in particular), and then we went home where Netflix had sent us Lilo and Stitch to keep us occupied for much of the afternoon.  This also afforded me a "relax" time on the couch (go ahead, applaud my fantastic ulterior motives) and after that we only had about an hour before Daddy came home to entertain her while I made dinner.

But Wednesdays are always another story.  Sometimes, Lila cries to go to Grandma's (where she spends the days when I work) and I have NO PROBLEM calling my mother and letting Lila plead with her to let her come over.  But most days, it is up to me to make magic for her. 

Luckily, Wednesday morning is story time at the local branch library.  Unfortunately it's at 10:00 which for some reason seems to come too early for us.  But Lila loves the storytime.  It's a small affair with 3 to 5 kids at a time and a wonderful older childrens' librarian who Lila is attached to.  You see, we used to live on the same block, right up the street, and so last year we spent A LOT of time taking walks to the library and hanging around in there.  But since we moved, it isn't really walking distance and so we need to take a car rind and in the winter that means a little longer to prepare.

Since Lila is going through her phase of freaking out any time I tell her its time to do anything, I had to warn her a few weeks ago that if she ever threw a fit when we were getting ready to go anywhere, we simply would not go.  But since I also desperately NEED to take her to storytime in order to have a little time to space out, I really need to make it happen.

Well, today I told Lila I the plan.  "I am going to go upstairs to get showered and dressed.  You need to play nicely for about 15 minutes and then you will be getting dressed, cleaned up, and ready to go to storytime."  She didn't throw a fit.  She said "okay".  So far so good. 

I went upstairs to get my clothes together and Lila came up behind me and went into her room to play.  This is also good because then I can listen while I shower.  I heard her getting frustrated with something and when I went in she told me she needed some help getting her notebook and pen from under a stack of coloring books.  "I am pretty sure you can do this yourself," I said, but I took the notebook and pen out and she went to put it on her little princess table.  I walked out and took my little stack of clothes into the bathroom. 

I heard more sounds of frustration (namely, the notebook being thrown on the floor and a grunt).  I went back in, now half undressed.  "What's the problem Lila?"

"I can't make my pen work..."  OK.  I went and hunted for another pen.  "Problem solved.  Give me 10 minutes."

Then I heard a loud crash and a whiny scream.  Lila had overturned the table in her room and started a mini fit.  I told her to take a deep breath.  She did.  Then I asked her to show me what the problem was. She started yelling at me that she didn't want any help from me.  "Fine," I said.  I am getting in the shower.  Please play good for like 5 minutes and I will help you when I get out." 

Somehow, this was too much for her and she threw herself onto the floor screaming.  I attempted to EXPLAIN that story time is starting at 10:00 and if she wants to go, I have to get into the shower NOW.  "Play with something else for 3 minutes, and then we can talk.  She continued to scream and yell at me telling me that she doesn't WANT to play with anything else and that she needs me to fix her table NOW".

I told her I was giving her ONE MORE CHANCE to knock that shit off and then we weren't going.  At that, I turned to walk out of her room and got into the shower.  I heard her stomping the ground and screaming.  I soaped up as quickly as I could while she continued to cry and as I did this I felt my blood begin go boil. "OK.  YOU WANT TO BE A HUGE BRAT TODAY?  NOW WE DON'T GO TO STORY TIME."

At this, her tone changed and she started the truly upset broken-hearted crying.  But FUCK HER.  I tried to be nice.  Why the hell was I going to take a kid who is clearly just being an asshole to storytime?  She was not throwing a fit because she wanted me to hang out with her.  She was throwing a fit because she has a temper and even though I tried to talk her through it she threw a fit anyway. 

As she continued to cry, I yelled at her that she OBVIOUSLY had decided that staying home and breaking her stuff was much more fun than storytime and so she should go ahead and break all of her stuff so that I can throw it away and she won't have any toys to get mad about anymore.

And I yelled and yelled and yelled and she just kept on crying and telling me that I am a Mean Mommy.  And then I started being a real asshole.  "Boo Hoo Hoo..." I said.  "I am being a brat and now I can't have what I want so I am going to be a bigger brat...BOO HOO HOOO!!!"  I was mocking my 3-year-old child. 

I admit, looking at that now, it was probably not nice to do.  It was childish.  I am the adult, right?  I am supposed to remain composed and calm, right?  So why does my kid have the ability to make me fucking insane to the point of wanting to strangle her?  I actually had to go into my bedroom, shut the door, and scream into a pillow until my throat started to hurt so that I didn't totally lose it.  I considered calling her father and telling him to come home so that I didn't traumatize her emotionally for life.

Then I started to feel guilty because I KNOW that my behavior is no more acceptable than hers, and I AM NOT THREE.  I started to think that I am setting a shitty example and now she is going to think it's okay to be an asshole to someone when they are upset. 

About 20 seconds later, Lila came in with a pack of candy that she got from her Valentine's Day party at school, as if NOTHING EVER HAPPENED and asked me to open it.  I said, "You know we're not going to storytime right?"  "Yeeeaaaah." she said sadly. 

"And you know that it's because you threw a fit for no good reason, right?"  "Yeeeaaah." she said. 

"Then why would you be allowed to have a candy treat when 5 minutes ago you were acting like a total brat?" I asked her, trying to be the stern Mommy.  She gave it to me and I told her we were going to save that for later. 

Then she said, "I want to tell you something very important."
 
"Oh yeah?"  I said.  "What's that?"

"I'm really sorry that I made you mad and sad." She said matter-of-factly.  "You don't have to take me to storytime when I'm being bad."

And that's when I realized that I have a really fucking good kid, and that as a mother, I totally do not deserve her.

The Shitter.

"According to Freud, success at this stage is dependent upon the way in which parents approach toilet training. Parents who utilize praise and rewards for using the toilet at the appropriate time encourage positive outcomes and help children feel capable and productive. Freud believed that positive experiences during this stage served as the basis for people to become competent, productive and creative adults. "

-My kid is obviously fucked.


What my kid sees when she has to poop.

Lila is potty trained.  Mostly.  Several months ago with the help of a personal potty chart and some stickers, Lila threw aside the confines of baby diapers and a little 9-inch high potty chair for the big time.  She peed on the regular toilet.  From that day forward, she was very proud of her self restraint when she felt that "pee thing" coming and with hardly a single accident (except once when we were out at a restaurant and she didn't like the auto-flush mechanism) she joined the ranks of those of us who MUST sit to pee.

Now, let me reiterate that I swore up and down before the kid came that I would NEVER, EVER, be one of those people who talked about their kid's excretions.  But I swear, when you have them you just cannot help yourself.

Lila refuses to poop on the potty.  When I started the mission of getting her to stop sitting around with shit and piss in her pants, I expected some setbacks.  But there was nothing immediately.  I stopped putting her in pull-ups and let her wear her princess (or Dora or Tinkerbell or whatever) panties except for overnights, and she was fine with that.  Until the 3rd day, when she finally HAD to poop.

She asked for a pull up.  My instant reaction was to drag her to the bathroom and set her on the toilet and give her some books and tell her to work it out (no pun intended) on her own.  After about 15 minutes she started crying because she couldn't make it happen and begged for a pull up.  So I put one on her.  I consulted the Internet (because honestly, where else does anyone get guidance anymore?) and read that you should absolutely NOT get into a power struggle about it, and that in a few weeks, she'll be ready and will just do it herself.

For nine months now, Lila has refused to crap sitting on the toilet.  Every now and then (usually when I am on my last pull up and don't want to spend the cash to buy more) when she asks to put a pull-up on so that she can poop, I will suggest that she sit on the potty for a little while and see what happens.  But she has made it clear that even though she will sit there, she WILL NOT poop without a pull-up on.  We have tried emptying her poop into the toilet and although she thinks its fun, she will not deposit it directly from her ass to the toilet under any circumstances.  And although I have told her that she must at least poop in the bathroom, and she will sit on the toilet with a pull up on, she will not poop until I let her get up. 


If the cat can do it, my kid can too!


My pediatrician told me that her own daughter did this for a while.  Once the child started waking up in the morning with dry diapers consistently, she just stopped buying them.  She explained that the kid had a choice - she could poop on the toilet or she could go in her pants.  No one would yell at her but she would have to help clean it up.

So a few nights ago, when Lila declared that she was ready to sleep in her panties because she was big and wouldn't pee during the night, I let her  She did great.  And has done so for the last 5 nights.  She told me she was proud of herself and I told her I was proud of her too!  We called Grandma and she continues to tell every person we see.

The next time Lila told me she needed to poop, she asked for a pull-up again.  And I told her that the pull-ups are gone and she would have to go on the toilet like a big girl.  Lila cried.  But I gave her a pep talk and assured her that she would be fine.  We went into the bathroom and she tried.  Nothing happened.  She told me she knew it was right there but couldn't make it come out. I sat with her for 20 minutes.  I tried to get her to do visualizations.  I tried to distract her.  I made her take deep breaths.  I tried to make it a game.  Nothing worked. 

The pediatrician also told me that once you make the decision to take away the pull-ups, you SHOULD NOT go back on it. She said that if the kid holds it, then after a couple of days, give her a laxative and make magic happen.  So I told Lila that she can try again later and she begged for a pull-up.  But I was determined. 

Later that day we tried again.  Nothing.  The next morning she came to ME saying she was ready to try the potty again and so we did.  As she sat there it was obvious that she was proud of herself and I saw in her eyes the determination to make me proud too.a  But after about 15 minutes it was obvious nothing was going to happen.  She said she still had to go, that she could feel it, but she felt scared.  I gave her the usual, "there's nothing to be scared of" chat.  She asked for a pull-up and I said I didn't have any.  She started to cry.  Not a real cry, but a whiny "give me my way" kind of cry.  I held my ground.  I told my mother (who would be watching her for the day) to hold hers as well.  Lila begged for a pull up and the more she did that, the more mad I got.  This is something that kids her age do.  They beg and hassle and whine until you give in, and then they continue to manipulate you until you have no control over them anymore.  I would not be that parent.  We got her dressed and she told me her belly hurt and I told her she HAS to poop ON THE POTTY when she gets to Grandma's house.

A few hours later my mother called me.  Immediately she started in on me.  "Lila's belly hurt and she couldn't go on the toilet so I let her go to the bathroom in a pull-up and it hurt her so bad that she cried and she wouldn't let me hold her or go near her and I think there was a tiny bit of blood...I can't believe you made her hold it for 3 days!"  "First off," I said, "it wasn't 3 days.  It was 2 days and that isn't abnormal for her".  I tried to explain what the doctor told me.  My Mother explained that Lila was scared that I would find out that she went in her pull-up because she thought I was going to get mad at her.  My mother said Lila cried about that too.  And that was after the most traumatic shit anyone has ever taken by a person (I added that last flourish. My mother only IMPLIED that part).  My mother also told Lila that it only hurt because she held it for too long and that I should just let her have a pull-up when she asks for it.  Wow...Thanks for telling my kid how much I suck as a parent! And thanks for not allowing me to determine how I will proceed with these kinds of things.

But as the day wore on, the anger at my mother faded.  Now I was the worst mother in the world.  It wasn't that she was being a manipulative asshole, she was constipated and KNEW it was going to hurt.  The pressure from me trying to make her do what I wanted her too made it impossible and she suffered for it.  Plus, my poor kid thinks I am going to be mad at her for NOT being able to perform, and I am forcing an issue that every professional on earth (except obviously, for Lila's doctor) tells parents NOT to force.  And although everyone says "you never see adults who are afraid to poop on the potty walking around so she will obviously grow out of this," I cannot help but to imagine that Lila will always have some emotional scar because I tried to force her to shit on the toilet and instead she tore her ass out.  This will likely be the one thing that causes her to turn to teen sex, recreational drugs, and finally a career in porn.  I have ruined my kid forever.

That night as I left work, I felt horrible.  I thought she would be somber and mad and a little stand-offish.  I got to my mother's house to pick her up and I cautiously opened the door.  Lila's face lit up, and she ran to the door screaming and happy to see me as usual.  Apparently, she didn't even think about it and wasn't even slightly concerned that I had ruined her entire life.  Because I hadn't.  I talked to her about it but she kind of shrugged it off and when I told her we could try again the next time she felt it coming, she didn't seem nervous or upset but gave a smile and said, "Okay, as long as I can bring a book."

My Kid Has "Friends".

At least I know where she gets it...

From some random child psychology study:

Approximately thirty percent of American children between the ages of three and six develop an imaginary companion.

In many cases this fantasy friend is thought of as real by the child, so real in fact that a child will often accommodate for the companion’s physical presence, sleeping on only one side of the bed, for example, so the friend can have room to lie down.
Many children even believe they can see and hear their imaginary playmate while they converse with them.

My kid does not have an imaginary friend.  My kid has an entire troop of them.  Lila has always been a social kid.  She loves to be the center of attention, loves the sound of her own voice (which I believe is why she never shuts up) and is always most pleasant when she is around other children.

Up until a couple of months ago, Lila hated to play alone.  She would beg and cry and throw things when we were trying to do other things and apparently she got the idea that we just had other things to do because suddenly she just stopped doing it.  One day, I was doing dishes and when I turned off the water I heard her talking.  I thought she was just sort of reciting her inner thoughts to no one but then I realized that she was carrying on a conversation, acting like someone was answering her and she was responding.  Not wanting to disturb this precious quiet time, I just stood still and listened.

"Now Max, you and Ruby need to go over here and sit down.  We're going to have tea as soon as Toot and Puddle get here...Yes, that is them at the door, will  you please let them in?...Oh thank you.  You look very beautiful too." 

My kid probably watches too much TV.  But she plays with Max and Ruby and Toot and Puddle (and Caillou and Leo and Clementine and Xavier...and all of Caillou's 16 or so friends) all the time now.  She picks them up and puts them in her purse to bring them to Grandma's.  She makes me set out little paper plates for them when I give her dinner.  She accuses me of sitting on them (which she finds completely traumatizing) and feels the need to open and close the front door 8 times in a row to let each of them in (This last thing was cute in the summer...not so much now that it's freezing outside). 

But cartoon characters are not the only "friends" she plays with.  Since she started school the number of pretend friends has grown into an assembly.  She has pretend versions of the kids at preschool and the two little girls she plays with at my mother's house.  She now plays with anyone she's ever seen on TV, including Tom and Jerry,  Hannah Montana, and Stephen Colbert (I think he's somebody's dad or something).

Occasionally I have seen her get angry at her pretend friends for not coloring on the paper when they are supposed to be coloring together.  She gets upset with them when they want to play a different game than she does.  She tells them to quiet down because Mom and Dad are talking.  She yells at them, fights with them, shares with them and begs me to let them spend the night.  Basically, in all respects, she acts like they are real, living people. 

This terrifies me.  Although I know that it's totally normal to have an imaginary friend, a posse of them is a little much.  Do you know how long it takes to wash everybody's hands in one bathroom sink?  Or get everyone strapped into the car?  Do you have any idea how difficult it is to NOT get pissed and say "NO.  THEY'RE NOT REALLY HERE AND YOU CANNOT GIVE EACH OF THEM A SEPARATE BATH/ PLATE/ COOKIE/ BOOK/ SHIRT!!!"  I have tried to say, "tell your friends they have to play by themselves so that you can come and have dinner," which is responded to with tears and pleas of "But Ruby's hungry too!"

Her preschool teacher assures me that she's seen before and that it's actually a good sign that she is learning to work out her difficulties, fears, and concerns in a safe way that doesn't hurt anyone's feelings.  And I agree.  I hear her practicing her pleases and thank-you's and excuse me's and yelling and pouting and telling them to "GO HOME THEN!"  And I don't interrupt.  Except to occasionally let her know it's time to eat.

What's the worst thing a kid can bring home from school?

Lila likes Family Feud.  She is afraid of Richard Dawson, but likes the newer versions.  Even my 3 year old knows a freaky overly touchy creep when she sees one.  Monday night we were watching and one of the survey questions was "Whats the worst thing a child can bring home from school?".  My immediate answer is the subject of this post.

Tuesday and Thursday mornings, Lila goes to preschool.  I get up and take her and I have to pick up any notices in her cubby where she keeps her jacket.  This Tuesday, the day after Family Feud, there was an "Illness Alert" sheet for me.  Guess what's being passed around?  HEAD LICE!!!!

TO me that is the grossest thing I can imagine her bringing home.  I am terrified of having to wash everything she's touched in the last month only to have missed one barette and having it come back. 

I checked her (and made my mother and Ben check me) and so far there's nothing.  But just thinking about it makes my entire body itchy, and as a hypochondriac I am convinced that not only do I have head lice, but I am also likely experiencing some allergic reaction. 

On a related note, Thursday she came home with a beautiful halloween picture frame that her class made that day.  Inside the picture frame is a picture of my kid with a big pumpkin hat on her head taken...wait for it....TUESDAY at school....

So now I have to have a chat with her teacher...

The screamer

Lila has NEVER been called shy.  She is famous for introducing herself to everyone she meets and also for taking off independently whenever we go anywhere.  She seems to lack fear and I sometimes worry that she doesn't really care if I am there or not.

That's why I am having such a hard time with this whole thing.  I was not even SLIGHTLY considering that she would scream when I left her at preschool. 

Her first day, she charged into the classroom, sat down at a table of boys building with magnetic blocks and immediately took charge, saying "Excuse me, please give me that.  NOW."  I stayed long enough to take a few pictures and left her to do her thing and moved to the door watching for another couple of minutes. Among her new classmates, there were a few who had obviously been in day care, not in the least bit concerned that mom and dad are walking out the door.  There were a couple who clung to mom's legs for dear life, but once engaged were content to stay playing as the parents waved goodbye.  There were mothers who were obviously tearful at the idea of their babies growing up.

The teacher finally announced that it was time for the parents to say goodbye so she could start class, and at that, my kid started screaming.  "NOOOO...I want to go home with you I dont want to stay I want to come please dont leave I want my mommy I don't like it here NOOOOO!"   I had no idea what to do.  When we visited the school during an open house, everyone commented on how independent Lila was.  She barely noticed me.  "She'll obviously be fine," the teachers and other parents all said.  When I tried to get her to leave she cried, played "no bones" and didn't want to leave.  She told me she wanted to come back tomorrow.  I took this as a sign that she was more than ready for school, and actually NEEDED the experience.  So what the hell was this screaming all about?

As the teacher approached to calm her, she kicked and screamed and said "I don't like her!  Take me with you!"  She had brought her toy Wonder Pet (so she wouldn't be alone) and so I reminded her that he would take care of her, and that I would be back in just a little while to get her.  Then the teacher took her from my arms and I turned and walked out, not looking back even once.  I didn't have to.  I heard her screaming for me all the way to the car.  I stopped by the office and left my number asking them to call me in 15 minutes if she was still crying, and the secretary told me that every year there is at least one kid who does this the first couple of days but end up being fine.  I hoped this was the case.

I cried the whole way home.  At the 15 minute mark, I held my phone in my hand waiting for the call to come.  It never did. 

At 11:15, pick-up time, I went back to the school and waited for her outside her classroom.  She came out smiling, holding an art project and telling me how much fun she'd had.  I thought we were over the hump.  She talked about how much fun she had and sang me a new song she learned.  She told me about the boy who wasn't nice and knocked down her block castle.  She told me that on Thursday they were going to go outside to play.  She seemed pretty excited about the whole thing. But the second day (this morning) she did the same thing again. 

I've read Lila many stories about the first day of school where there is one kid who cries every day when he or she is dropped off.  At the end, the same kid always ends up crying when Mom shows up because now they dont want to leave.  I cannot have that kid.  I will pull her out of school before I will deal with this shit every morning. It kind of sets a really bad tone for the rest of the day.

I know that it sometimes takes a few days for a kid to adjust.  I remember VIVIDLY my first couple of days of school where I cried (literally) the whole first day, half of the second day, and for at least an hour the third day.  But after that I was fine.  But this is totally heartbreaking!  How does a mother walk away from her screaming and seemingly terrified baby?

I do not know if I can go through another morning of this.  Is it possible that she just isn't ready?

I try...I really do.

Lila will be 3 this summer. She's a smart kid. She knows her ABCs and can count past 20. She knows her shapes, colors and opposites. She can navigate around the web by herself if I leave her alone. The one thing she has no idea about is how to behave.

So a couple of months ago I began my quest to find a good preschool for her. Just a couple of days a week, but somewhere where she can play with other kids and maybe learn to sit still for 20 minutes at a time. Now, I don't live in some big city that has prestigious schools with waiting lists from birth or anything. Syracuse, NY has a sufficient number of "head start" type programs and private schools that offer programs for 3 year olds.

I had sort of resigned myself to this one around the corner that is in a building adjacent to a baptist church. I saw the kids outside playing and it would be super convenient in that it is LITERALLY at the other diagonal corner of our block. I got the info and talked to the teacher. It seemed okay. No garbage lying around...no serial killer types lurking in the bathroom. I was ready to enroll her.

Then I got wind of another preschool program nearby at the catholic school across the street from the baptist church. I thought they just did K-6 but apparently had started up one program for 4 year olds and one for 3 year olds. Now, I am not really subscribed to any religious affiliation. But as a kid I went to Catholic school myself so I figured I would make an appointment to take the tour.

What happened was unexpected. I LOVED THIS SCHOOL. The kids were extremely friendly and polite and the teachers just exuded this confidence and ease about the way they handled one misbehaving boy. Since this was part of a larger school, the preschool kids sometimes teamed up with the older kids for "mentoring" and games. They participate in all the school events from concerts to plays to book drives. It was everything I could possibly want in a preschool for Lila.

Until I got the information about the cost. The least expensive program (2 half days a week) would cost me $3,000 for the year. That's $300 a month, or about $37 per day. This seemed a little steep considering that the other school charged about a fourth of that. But it was SOOOO much better!

Ben and I looked at other schools but none impressed us as much. None had the atmosphere or quality that this one had. We were hopeful that this would be an incredibly valuable experience for Lila. We put the registration off and hoped that financially we would have a better idea of where we stood before the summer. Unfortunately we do...and there is no way we can afford to send Lila to the awesome school. Because I am a black and white kind of girl, my thinking is that if I can't give Lila the best, we will just skip preschool this year and hope next year is better. But then I get slapped with my own guilty conscience...Am I depriving Lila of valuable learning experiences by not sending her to school? Not because I want to have one of those genius kids, but because she would LOVE it?