No rest for the weary

I seem to be a glutton for punishment.  And there's definitely a pattern.  My last day of maternity leave with Lily, we found our house.  Yes, we'd been casually looking at real estate -- popping in to open houses when we happened to pass by --  for a few months.  We'd even called our agents to take us in to a few houses that seemed to have real potential.  

But on February 28th, my very last day of maternity leave, we discovered this house and, insanely, decided to make an offer.  Maybe it was the dusting of snow that made everything look so romantic.  Perhaps it was the ridiculous playground directly across the street from us.  Very likely it was my post partum hormones that were demanding we immediately relocate in to a better school district.  Because, of course, Lily would start Kindergarten in FIVE AND ONE HALF YEARS (clearly an emergency).  Whatever the reason, we decided to make a move. 

Amazingly (the real estate market was SO different back then) we got the house.  Noah took a week off to get our house ready to put on the market (remember, this was my first week back at work).  32 offers later, we sold our old house and made the move. 

Remember this?

You'd think after a stunt like that that I would actually learn a lesson.  As if there's not enough going on with the transition to day care and work.  As luck would have it, though, my return to work this time around has seemed to be an equally insane whirlwind...of the preschool variety. 

Last winter I did all the research for area preschools -- I think there's a cookie on my computer for a Google "best Washington DC area preschools" search -- and picked my top three choices to apply to.  All three were very different -- one play based, one Montessori, and one a combination of the two, Reggio Emilio.  I dutifully went on the tours.  I wrote thank you notes to the directors.  I seriously considered signing them all up for wine and flower of the month clubs.  I lost sleep at night worrying that we wouldn't get in anywhere....and then stressing about which one we'd chose if she got in to more than one.

In the end, the decision was made for us.  Because I'd been a little late to the game (who knew you had to apply for preschool more than a year in advance!), we were wait-listed at two of the three.  Fine.  Done.  Lily would attend Children's House Montessori (CHMS) in the fall.

Secretly I was a bit relieved.  Logistically it's the easiest for us; it's essentially on Noah's way to work.  She'd be given hot meals for lunch, provided by the same catering company that Huckleberry Cheesecake uses.  Some of the children from her class would likely end up at her elementary school in two years.  Lots of parents we spoke to raved about the school.

We signed the contract, sent in our deposit and first month's tuition, attended the parent orientation, and dutifully took Lily to their new student "playdates" over the summer.  I stocked up on "skorts" and bought a ton of biker shorts for Lily to wear under skirts and dresses (undies must be covered) and bought Lily her first pair of sneakers, the "strongly encouraged" pair of school shoes.  

All was set.

Until I got a phone call from the School for Friends (SfF) on, you guessed it, my last day of maternity leave.  

After playing phone tag with the director for a few days, Lily was offered a spot.  In one of the most amazing preschools in Washington, DC.  One that would all but guarantee her entrance, should we decide that we wanted it, to any of the city's top private schools.  One that would nurture her creativity, challenge her curiosity, and expose her to its incredible and wonderfully diversity student body (something that sadly she lacks right now).

And so I've been tearing my hair our ever since.  Depending on the time of day, if you called me this week I was either strongly leaning towards School for Friends or, five minutes later, strongly considering Children's House Montessori.  Sometimes I'd switch positions over the course of a telephone conversation.  I have countless lists scattered around the house and my office, detailing pros and cons for each of the two schools.

Lily had a wonderful buddy at Huckleberry Cheesecake, Emma, who has been at School for Friends for the past year.  Not only would Lily and Emma be in the same class again, but Emma's mother, in Bangladesh for work right now, caught wind of the situation and CALLED me.  And emailed me.  And forwarded to me all the daily newsletters, complete with photos, that she gets from Emma's teacher, Ms. Jackie.  Suffice it to say, they adore the school.  No pressure there...

Cowgirl Lily and Pumpkin Emma, Halloween 2005

In the end, after getting out a magnifying glass to read the fine print on our CHMS contract, the decision was made for us.  Yet again.  By signing the contract we are now on the hook for the entire year's tuition.  $16,620.  Neither my employer nor Noah's pays us well enough to take a $16k hit.

I think that I lost years off my life this week.  It was more stressful than dealing with putting a house on the market, at the height of the real estate insanity, and having probably thousands walk through my house and 32 people try to buy it (and that was no small potatoes).  As my father pointed out, this definitely won't be the last hard decision we'll be tested with during our tenure as parents.  But man-O-man, it was a doozey!  My brain was limping towards the finish line (as yours must be after reading this crazy long post).  All I can say is TGIF.  And, once again, I'm secretly relieved that that decision was, essentially, made for us.