Wildlife Observations

On Saturday, I observed two males in the outdoor habitat (BB and PH). BB is clearly the leader and PH follows his lead. We went to Moore Lake Park while Peanut went to a birthday party. After I explained that the lake is closed for swimming for the season and NO, we could not just climb the fence and jump down onto the sand, they scampered off to play. Each had with him his favorite stuffed animal. BB has a blue and chartreuse octopus from IKEA named Inky and PH has his Webkin Cheeky Monkey named Bananas. I believe that BB and PH were treating their critters to a tour of the playground and it was the animals who were playing.

I watched them as they stood by the water, hands in their back pockets, then squatting down to get a closer look. I was too far away to hear what they were saying. But I was enjoying the silent movie. Then they wandered over to another part of the park. After a while. PH began to run a lap around the whole playground, just because he could.

The playground was not holding their attention and pretty soon they were asking me for an ice cream cone. I did oblige them. Their stuffed animals enjoyed the cones as well, as they showed me the ice cream face on each critter. (I tried not to be grossed out by thoughts of how sticky their animals would be and how now they will attract more dirt). And since we still had more time before Peanut's party was over, we wandered over to another park and I observed these two boys o'mine play together again.

It struck me on the sentimental side because I was remembering a time when BB refused to acknowledge that PH was his brother. He was only 3 at the time and would say "He is Princess's brudder...not my brudder." And he pretty much ignored anything PH did. But now these two are the best of friends. They are collaborators on Lego building projects and co-conspirators in mischief. They squabble and occasionally get physical with each other, just like any normal set of brothers do. PH is very tolerant of BB's antics and his annoying behaviors. But sometimes, a threshold is met and my good-natured, roll-with-the-punches PH gets really mad to the point where his face scrunches up and turns red and he will scream in frustration.

One day, I told PH (and the others for that matter) to ignore BB because he was being so annoying and that by ignoring him, they would send him a message that they will not tolerate being treated this way. I wanted BB to know that no one will play with him nor will they want to even be around him when he acts like a mini-tyrant. It took a while but eventually, the 3 victims of BB's bullying got good at ignoring him and BB was isolated. He tried to act like he didn't care. After a few hours, he picked up PH's monkey and called PH's name and then used Banana's hand to wave at PH. PH went over and smiled, and grabbed Banana's and the period of isolation was over. No words of apology were spoken but I believe that the intention was there. BB had reached out to his brother and PH reached back. Peace was achieved.

I think this is the way of brothers. They fight like cats and dogs. But they love each other with the same fierceness as what they fight with. The bond is there and neither wants there to be discord.

This male bonding has not occurred between the older boys and their younger brother. He is still the outsider. They consider him too much of a baby yet to include him. BB gets irritated because Peanut mispronounces words; he says "turch" instead of "church" and he doesn't know how to read, he can't count, he can't add and in BB's eyes, he is not yet ready to join the Boyhood of Brothers. I hope at some point, there will be a shift and they will accept him. Peanut adores his brothers and tries so hard to be like his big brothers. He copies their postures, their likes/dislikes. He wants to do everything they do. It's hero worship but to his older brothers, it's just annoying.

It is interesting watching the interplay and family dynamics going on before my eyes. I remember some of what it was like when I was growing up. I was the oldest. When I was in elementary school, I felt my sisters were "OK" but I couldn't really relate to my youngest sister because she didn't know what I was doing, nor could she understand. She started Kindergarten when I started Junior High. We were worlds apart. As I got older, I pulled away from my family and wanted to do more stuff with my friends and my sisters were annoying. They wanted to do all my cool stuff but I hated having them tag along.

It wasn't until I was in college that I realized that I was so pulled into my own thing that I missed everything that was going on with them. I watched from the outside as my two younger sisters grew closer because they were closer in age and still living at home. I felt sad and no longer a part of their lives.

Can I do better with my kids by being aware of this dynamic, this push and pull between siblings? If you sit in on conversations around the dinner table, I often talk on the topic of what it means to be a family. I can only hope that what I say and how I act will have an impact upon the course of my children's lives.

The good news is that now all 3 of us sisters are in our 30's and are quite fond of each other and have recognized that each of us are really cool people. I know that my sister's are there for me when I need them and I hope that they know I am there for them when they need me. We no longer lock each other out of the house or scratch each other's arms...occasionally, we may argue or hurt each other's feelings but we work it out like grown-ups. We love each other. We laugh with each other. We have a common history and shared memories. We have a bond.

I hope those bonds are forged deeply between each of my children. Someday, they will need to depend on each other.

All in all, it was not a bad weekend. Two of 4 kids were grounded. BB tried to negotiate the terms of grounding down to 5 days instead of 7, and then tried to explain that I never said "Friends" were included in the grounding. I figure he is just trying to feel around for the boundaries, sort of like a dog who has a new fence...sniff around the fence, try to dig under the fence, try to jump over the fence...maybe urinate on the fence...and then relax because now he knows the fence is what is keeping him safe. And for BB, bargaining is one of his trickiest tactics. He was told to head upstairs and clean the boys bedroom. But he complained about that and then when he saw that I was just about done cleaning the living room, he claimed that he wanted to clean the living room and that this is what he wanted to do all along. W.R.O.N.G-O! But thanks for playing.

By Sunday, he settled down for the most part. And I do believe that he is attempting to communicate with me. He made a little notebook and wrote a journal entry and in this journal entry, which he very patiently waited for me to read, he stated that he felt he had had a pretty good day and had even enjoyed Zone 252 which is the Children's program during church. Maybe journaling back and forth to each other is a good way for us to bridge this communication gap. I might suggest to him that we each write a journal entry about the day and then let each other read it.

PH has another doctor appointment tomorrow. This one is a consult and should not be any more invasive than a physical. But I have a gut feeling that we are headed for more invasive appointments as we try to figure out why he continues to reflux, regurgitate and vomit continually throughout the day. Rather than decreasing, things seem to be getting worse. But PH doesn't complain. He just goes with the flow. When I told him he has another appointment, he just said, "OK."

I reached the summit of Mount St. Laundry. And I have reached the Towel Foothills which I shall conquer tonight. I danced with my WetJet across the kitchen floor and perhaps we shall dance again tonight in the bathroom. I had the living room looking fairly decent for about an hour and then Peanut decided to cut up some curling ribbon into little chunks which got spread across the floor as people walked and the wind blew in through the open window. Sigh. Maybe I should consider covering everything in plastic or taking a picture and hanging it on the wall to remind me of how my living room COULD look if I did nothing else but pick up dirty socks, apple cores, shreds of paper and discarded sweatshirts all day or vacuumed twice a day like my Grandmother did. In her house, dust dare not settle anywhere. Alas, she would have had a different sort of life had she had 3 boys instead of just my Dad!

My house will never be a showpiece. But when I see my kids relaxing on the couches and I get a moment to put my feet up on my ottoman as I sit in my favorite comfy chair, I realize, it's still home. And the Lego's are forever banished to the boys room upstairs. That should last a few days anyway!

I have been WAY too down on myself. My life is very difficult. I can't get around that and it is not likely to change. For crying out loud, I have 4 kids! And for the next ??? years, my life is going to be very full of kid things like Homework, dirty dishes, dirty clothes, dirty toilets, housework, bills, after-school activities, church activities. So I am going to mentally smack myself in the head and tell me to "Get over it. Move on."

I'm not a bad mom. I'm a busy mom. I am doing a two person job as a one person. But the work still has to be done. But my God-given gift is a brain, a sense of humor and an ability to organize. So, I have a color-coded calendar (except that Someone Who Shall Remain Nameless keeps taking my "Calendar Pens" for his art projects...oops! That narrows the field down to 3). I have lists. I have cubbies and a bulletin board. I'm developing a system and a routine.

But I have a little Rebel Who Lies Within. She pokes her head out now and then and wants to break free from all the rules, the structure and organization and say, "To heck with the cleaning...Don't do the dishes...forget about the dirty socks on the living room floor and the bathroom that smells like a port-a-potty at the state fair...lets just hang out and watch TV and then go to bed. We'll do it tomorrow!" Rebel has another name... the Procrastinator. She and I have duked it out since my school days.

If I let the Rebel rule, the dishes pile up higher, take longer, smell nastier. The house gets dirtier and then what am I teaching my kids? Am I teaching them to value a clean living space, to respect property and display good manners? Am I teaching them the virtue of work first,then play? And what about teaching them how to be respectful of people, places and things? It all starts at home.

So, Rebel Procrastinator, you will need to be quiet. The Grown-up is in charge. I may not be happy about it. I doubt I will ever have a stellar love affair with my broom (although I do have a certain fondness for my Wet Jet) nor will I write poems about cleaning supplies but we will come to terms and learn to live in harmony and I will put aside my rebel ways.

However, as a Grown Up,I do reserve the right to sometimes take a night off understanding that there are consequences and if I am willing to accept the consequences, then I will not feel guilty about it.

So, going home after a long day at work and setting about to cook a meal, do the dishes, start a load of laundry...it's just what I do. Organizing backpacks and checking for homework, checking for brushed teeth, clean sheets and finding missing shoes. It's my job. It's my love for my family that keeps me at it even when the days get long and seem so hard.

Enough about that. What do I love about what I do?

1. A clean kitchen. (My standards have changed in this. Clean dishes, wiped off counters and a swept floor...I don't expect things to sparkle or be able to eat off the floor. I WetJet on the weekend or when there is a spill. But I love to see clear counters and an empty sink.)
2. The smell of freshly washed sheets when I tumble into bed after a long day.
3. Wrapping up in a quilt on the couch with a kid on each side while we watch something together.
4. Listening to Peanut describe his day at Kindergarten and sound out words-- Kkkk-Uuuuu-Puh or tell me about his "Blood Muscles" (blood vessels).
5. Talking to Princess about her French homework or correcting her spelling(and her spelling is pretty bad, so we spend a lot of time doing this).
6. Playing a math game on the kitchen floor with BB.
7. Petting my cats.
8. The smell of a freshly shampooed boy, wrapped up in a warm towel.
9. The sound of my children's laughter.
10. Watching my kids playing outside from the window.
11. Watching my kids while they sleep.
12. Tucking my kids in at bedtime.
13. Signing "I love you" as I send them out the door to school.
14. Peanut blowing me kisses.
15. Mini-van dance parties to disco music!
16. Text messages from my kids "We're home." "We're playing outside." "I'm in the bathroom." and "Can you help me with my math homework?" Isn't technology grand? Next time they tell me they are in the bathroom, I'm texting back and asking them if they are pooping! Just for fun!
17. Looking at scrapbooks together and laughing as we read the stories.
18. Talking about the day they were born.
19. Remembering the day I learned I was pregnant, the way they wiggled inside me and how I felt the day they finally arrived.
20. Watching my children grow taller and their faces change from baby-chubby to girlish or boyish to tweeny.
21. A million little moments I can't put into words.

The Camel-Mom

I'm not in a good mood. It goes beyond grumpy or "out of sorts". I'm frustrated, sad, angry and confused all rolled up into one big rock sitting in my gut. It is not a pleasant feeling. I can't count how many times I have cried today or wanted to run home, throw my head under the covers and not come out til spring. But somebody has to be the grown-up and as much as my almost 10 year old would like to be...it ain't him.



I don't know how much more I can take on. I know that God won't give more than we can handle but I feel like I am about at my breaking point. I remember this game I played as a kid called "Break the Camel's Back" where you put straws into the saddle bags on this camel and when it got to be too many, then the camel would collapse and whoever was the last one to put a straw in was the loser. I feel like the camel and my knees are starting to buckle.



Why?



BB is giving me attitude, disrespect and complete defiance. I'm tired of telling him to do something and having him say back to me "I don't have to." I know, I know, I know that he is just trying to push my buttons. Well, it's working. My buttons are pushed full ON. He wants a fight. He wants me mad so he can push back. I did lose my cool last night. I picked him up a couple of times and carried him to his room, telling him to go to bed. He would just march right out. Then he would turn the light on, while his brothers were trying to sleep. He would wrap his legs around the chair. He would grip the door frame with his fingers. At one point, he swung out and hit me in the jaw. I don't know at this point if he meant to punch me. His fist was closed. I have a bruise. But more than the mark on my face, it's the bruise in my heart. Finally, I told him to sleep downstairs on the couch. I refrained from saying "And just get out of my face."



This morning, the surly mood continued. I wanted him to take his medicine. He refused. I tried to sit him up, and he would slump down. I brought him milk. I did all the things I could think of, all the things he said he prefers for taking his medicine and still he refused. At this point, the dam broke. Tears filled my eyes and I said, "Look at me. Is this what you want? To make me hurt, to make me cry? Because you have. Do you think it makes you tough to beat up on your mom? Is this the kind of man you want to grow up to be? A man who bullies people into getting what you want, who beats them up to get what you need? You think about that."



He was very quiet on the drive over to school. And I continued to wipe away the tears, occasionally bumping the tender spot on my face that reminds me that things are way out of control. And I don't know how to get it back.



And if this isn't enough, PH needs to have an upper GI done next week and then see a Gastroenterologist to see if we can figure out why he continues to regurgitate and throw up. I have watched him, when he doesn't know. It is happening far more frequently than I realized. The thing of it is, he doesn't complain. But I think he does suffer. He just takes it quietly. But then with a noisy, out of control brother like BB, maybe he realizes he won't be heard. Or I am also suspecting that he has a high pain tolerance and just doesn't cry until things are really, really bad.



I have had several migraines this week. Like I needed that too. Add on to it managing a household, Mount St. Laundry that continues to grow on a daily basis, checking backpacks for homework, cooking, cleaning...and then simply just being. All of these are straws being dumped into my saddle bag... plunk, plunk, plunk.

Tuesday's Random Things

In my struggles with BB and his frustrating (read: aggravating, tiring, excruciatingly painful and incomprehensible) behaviors of the last several months, I have been trying a new strategy. I have figured out that he is trying (really, REALLY hard) to push my buttons. He is trying to start a fight. He is trying to find an excuse to throw a fit, do some damage and cause me pain. I don't know why. He won't tell me. He only says that he doesn't have to tell me and that if he did, I would hate him.

My words have been basically ineffective and non-productive. Futile.

Thus, I have decided to change my strategy. He wants a fight but I am giving him love. He wants to aggravate me, so I am giving him patience. He wants to give me reasons to shout at him and get all ugly so he has a reason to shout back. Maybe in some way, this would give him the release he is seeking. But it isn't healthy, nor is it appropriate. I also figure it is my job to stay at least one step ahead of him.

So, he argues with me and I just become more calm and more matter-of-fact. BB, I know you don't like it, but this is how it is. You will go to school every day. You will go to bed on time. You can choose to sleep in your nice, warm bed or to sleep on the floor covered in lego's and your dirty, stinky socks but you will be in your room and the lights will be out at 9:15pm.

"Oh no I won't."

To this, I simply walk away. Less words.

"I didn't hear what you said."

You did. You just didn't like them. I'm not going to repeat myself.

He has looked downright baffled. So, he tries to change the game and flops on the floor, refusing to get up.

Oh, BB, it's time for bed. You look like you need a hug a kiss. Would you like me to walk you to your room and over to your ladder so you can climb into bed?

He grunts, "Nu-ohhh."

But as I put my arms around him and nuzzle his neck and tell him I love him, he melts into my shoulder. So, I squeeze him a little, kiss him on the head and say, "Good Night."

Baffled. He stays on the floor, I believe just for spite, or to see what I will do. But when I ignore him and go about my business, he gives up and goes to bed.

Hmmm.

This morning, when I woke him up, he actually smiled. He didn't grunt or tell me to go away. He smiled at me. He laughed when I tickled him. Then he asked me if I would give him his clothes so that he could get dressed in his bed before coming down the ladder. I about fell off the chair I was standing on.

He had his ugly moments yesterday. He still argues with me and tries to act all tough and like he doesn't care. But when I am firm, yet calm and kind, he grows tired of being oppositional and he cooperated.

I'm exhausted. It's hard work being so in control of myself. I feel myself getting so angry at times but I think I will put that picture of him this morning with his sweet smile greeting me in my head and remember that the big picture here is finding a way to penetrate the angry heart, the distrust and show him that no matter what, Mom is in his corner but also Mom is the authority and in charge. I think it was a commercial that had the line, "Never let them see you sweat." I save the sweating for later, when the kids aren't around.

I am trying hard to put my faith in Christ, to lean on Him and let Him give me the strength I do no possess and the energy I need to continue doing the hard things I am doing right now. Physically, I am parenting alone. But I need to remember, that I am not alone. The Lord is with me.

Peanut was really cute this morning. I had to wake him up too. Normally, he opens his eyes the minute I walk in the room. This morning, he got the tickle monster. He was laughing and I told him that I have the most handsome boys in all the world.

He asked, "But what if I had only one eye and looked like this?" and he scrunched up his face real funny.

Even if you had only one eye, one ear, no teeth ...you would still be handsome to me and I would still love you. No matter what.

He just grinned.

Princess had a bad day yesterday. She said she was late to several classes, had trouble with her gym locker, brought the wrong notebook to one class, didn't bring her reading book to another class. Then she was trying to finish up a project and realized that she could not find the grading sheet. She just fell apart. So, we went to our room to talk about it and brainstorm about how she could make her day better tomorrow.

She told me she was so embarrassed in class when she forgot her reading book because her Language Arts teacher is so strict and told everyone in the class that she forgot her book. This was the very class with the project due and now she was worried that if she asked the teacher for another grading sheet, she would be humiliated again. We talked it through and I suggested to her that she approach her teacher first thing and explain what happened and also say that she knows that organization is a problem for her but she is working on it and will be more careful next time.

Then she told me about some of her issues with having so many things to carry to each class but feeling like it was too much. So, I asked her what would help her feel less burdened and more organized. So, we decided that a shelf for her locker would help her keep her binders organized and a pencil cup for extra supplies. But she also asked if she could get a different pencil case and mentioned one she found at Target that she thinks would work better.

I love that she is beginning to really think things through. It's a lot to handle. Middle school is such a big change from elementary school. She is used to being somewhat coddled as an elementary student and now she is being held accountable. I am so glad that we talked about it and that I can help her problem solve. I can't do it for her but I can help her through it.

She called me this afternoon when she got home from school and told me that everything with her Language Arts teacher was fine. She was nice about the grading sheet and her presentation went well. She and Peanut were now out catching frogs. That's my girl!

Made it out alive

The first week of school is over. Overall, I think everything went very well. I felt very leisurely at work, strolling in at 10am every day and only working 3 out of 5 days.

There were a couple of moments that were not great. When I got home on Thursday, I was anxious to hear from Peanut how Kindergarten went. I was pulling up to the mailbox and I saw Princess approach on her bike. That's a nice welcome.

"Mommmm... you will not believe this but there is a BIG problem at home. SOMEONE. POOPED. EVERYWHERE. All over the WHOLE house."

My spirits sank. "Are you sure it wasn't one of the cats?"

"NO!! SOMEONE missed the toilet and then spread poop everywhere. It's totally gross. I think it was PH because he is the one I saw coming out of the bathroom."

"Tell your brothers to get home. RIGHT NOW."

I did not know what to expect. I have a vivid imagination so I was picturing feces spread from wall to wall and floor to ceiling. I wondered if someone was really mad and trying to tell me how upset they were. However, this would be very out of character, even for BB (He would just break a lamp or something...he wouldn't touch poop...but he would tell someone else to do it).

I won't describe it in detail because it is disgusting. But it was pretty bad but also pretty obvious that whoever the culprit was, it wasn't intentional. It was clearly a case of "Couldn't make it in time". What I still don't understand, and it is probably because I know longer think like a 7 year old, is why if he couldn't make it all the way to the toilet in the bathroom off the kitchen...he thought it would be better to then go upstairs and try for the other bathroom too, leaving a trail of excrement as he went. I could practically retrace his steps from the kitchen bathroom, up the stairs, to the upstairs bathroom and then back to his bedroom where he dropped his soiled clothing on the carpet.

I spent the better part of an hour cleaning the carpet. It was not how I envisioned spending the evening. After talking to PH about it, he did tell me that he had some trouble where "things came really fast". I think it is his medicine for Reflux that is causing him this lower GI distress. Poor kid...he's got it going from both ends. I suspect that the Prevacid he is taking for his reflux is not really doing the trick for him and we will have to go back in to the doctor for more invasive testing. My only reprieve is that he is not throwing up in the middle of the night, but he does continue to regurgitate.

So, Friday morning, BB comes up while I am getting ready for work to tell me that he has thrown up and feels like he is going to again. I looked him over and felt his skin. He did not feel warm or clammy. I figured he was trying to get out of going to school for some reason. I told him that I could not stay home (It's Friday Lunch day!!). So, he would need to go to school and tough it out. I sent him out the door to catch the bus.

However, when I left the house to head for work, he was standing in the driveway. It was just a little after 9, so I told him I would drive him to the bus stop and maybe he hadn't missed the bus. The bus and all the kids were gone. Now I am mad.

"BB, this WILL NOT happen again. It is only this week that I am here until you go to school. Starting next week, I will be leaving for work at 8am and if you miss the bus, you will have to walk."

"But I don't know the way."

"Then pay attention because I am going to show you how you will walk to school. It isn't far but if you have to walk it, it will take you a while, so you can't waste time."

I drove him to school and he sulked the whole way. There was no cheerful good-bye, just a stern warning that this was not going to happen again or he would have consequences at school and at home.

I waited all day long for the phone to ring and the school nurse to tell me that he was sick and needed to come home. However, the phone never rang. My suspicions were correct. It was a ploy...a failed ploy, mind you...to get out of going to school.

Peanut Rides the Bus

It's official. Peanut is a full-fledged Kindergartner. He got on that big, yellow bus today and even though he was instructed to do so, he did not turn around for pictures. However, he did turn and look for me and give me his special Peanut wave. I don't know if I am proud to say I didn't cry or not. I didn't. But I felt a hitch in my throat and I put my head on my Mommy's shoulder and I was really glad she was there with me.

I am anxious to hear how his day went. I am nervous and scared about how after-school is going to go too. His older siblings have been warned that they must watch out for him. I know that BB is scared of this responsibility but at the same time, I know that even though BB protests greatly about it and will deny it til his dying days, he loves his brothers and he will rise to the occasion.

My jitters will eventually ease up some. The first week of school is just as nerve wracking for me as it is for my children. In some ways, I think it is worse for me. I am thrusting them out into that big scary world of school buses, teacher's and other people's children who do not share the same values as I do. Last year, my older boys came home reciting words I refer to as "Playground talk" but in all reality, it's swearing. And then they thought it would be really funny to teach these naughty words to their 5 year old brother, who then taught them to his 4 year old playmate this summer.

I added a lecture to my parenting series called, "Honey Words and Vinegar Words: Let your words be sweet on the tongue and sweet in the ear". Slowly, the vinegar words have decreased. But Peanut, as we walked out of Meet the Teacher night last week, very innocently and sweetly, I might add, looked up at me and said, "Mommy, Did you just say 'What the F**K?'" When I scraped my jaw off the sidewalk, and my cheeks settled down to their usual rosy pink instead of Flaming Lobster Red, I said, "No...Mommy does NOT talk like that and neither should you. That is a very naughty thing to say. It's vinegar." And he replied sweetly, "OH...OK."

Is it any wonder why my knees feel weak and I tremble in fear? Or why I have been praying for protection over them each day? I am not the only influence in their lives. I pray I am the strongest and the loudest. But it is a battle. Peanut is now thrown into the ring as well.

I thought about these things as I walked back to my house, got in my van and drove to work. I didn't cry but my heart felt heavy. In many ways, school provides my children with many opportunities and experiences that I cannot provide. My daughter is learning French and she says she will be learning to play the guitar in Music Enrichment. BB, who HATES to stand up in front, says he wants to join the 4th grade choir! PH, for all of his follow-along behaviors with BB, still likes to curl up next to me and give me kisses. Peanut will love Kindergarten.

My life as a parent is changing. The Diaper Days are done. I am transitioning into Life Coach, teaching hygiene, basic living skills, how to get along with other people and how to live your life in a way that shows others you love Jesus and that Jesus is someone they want to know too. It's a big job and it suddenly feels bigger.

I was telling someone the other day that when my daughter was born, the thing I was most scared of was potty training. Looking back, I think potty training is far easier than the stuff I do now. And I laugh at myself about the things I used to worry about. I used to worry about how much they ate, how much they pooped and did they get enough sleep and would I get a nap. Now I worry about who they will talk to, what they are learning...I seldom ask them about their poop (except to be funny or to embarrass them!) and I still worry about what they eat and how much they sleep. I get an occasional nap now and then. I wish at times that I could hold them like I did when they were babies, and their sleepy heads would rest heavily on my shoulder as their bodies fell limp in my arms. They felt safe and I knew I could protect them.

A Foot in Two Worlds

That's me. Straddling the two worlds of being a parent of elementary schoolers and now a middle schooler. To say that I am not prepared would be an understatement.

Caught off guard.
Freaked out.
Scared to death.
And a resounding, "I'm not ready!!!"

But I prepared myself as best I could. I put on my brave face. My poker face, or the best one I could muster, and I fought back the tears and I did not run after to bus screaming, "Don't take my baby..." I was strong and dignified.

Yeah, right.

I went to the Parent Night. It was pretty cool. I felt it did a good job of preparing me for her Middle school experience. I was given a copy of her schedule and I went to each of her Day 1 classes, I had 4 minutes of passing time in between to get from one class to the next. I found her locker. I took notes on tidbits I thought would help her. I was slightly bemused through out the evening for several reasons. The first one was purely superficial: I was one of the youngest parents I saw (compared to being at the elementary school earlier where I felt really, really old). The second was the silliness I saw in all these old parents walking the halls, looking lost and asking each other, "When do you have Math?" "I'm going to Gym next..." "Oh, do you have So-and-So for Science?" And I remembered my first day of junior high. It did not seem all that long ago. But then I did the math. It was 25 years ago. And I was back to feeling old again.

My dear, darling daughter is the sweetest girl on the planet. But she is not very organized. So, this is my goal for her this year, to learn how to stay organized and stay on top of things. The school helps in that each student is given an "agenda" or a planner in which they write down all their assignments and important information. But that notebook does not help the child who loses things in the nest she calls her bed. She's a pack rat. She has to save every scrap of paper as if it is treasure. She can't part with a single item because it is precious.

I love that she is so sentimental and saves birthday cards, Valentines...but gum wrappers from Kindergarten? Really...come on! I realized that I was never really "taught" how to be organized. I sort of came by it naturally but there are things that I wish I had been told when I was in junior high. So, this is my mission. And it is something that she and I can connect on as well. I know that very soon, and a whole lot sooner than I want it to happen, she will pull away from me and want to go off to her friends. So I have to put anchors in her heart and in her brain that let her know that Mom is a safe person, Mom is trustworthy and has her best interests at heart, Mom is here to help.

So, I bought her 3 ring binders, one for each class except gym. I put labels on the end. She and I developed a color code to identify which classes are everyday classes (they are green), Day 1 classes are Red and Day 2 classes are Blue. I marked on her map of the school where her classes are, where her locker is. We talked about when she would have time to go to her locker and when she would not and how to plan her day.

She came home from her first day of school looking happy. I was sort of expecting her to look frazzled and upset. But I really think it helped that we had planned everything out and discussed some potential problems ahead of time. She had been inside the school once, so she had an idea about how it was laid out. She had worked her locker combination so many times, she already knew it by heart and could probably open it in her sleep, so that anxiety was gone.

I found myself going through the day thinking about where she was and what class she was in. I wondered how she was doing. Did she like her math teacher? Did she make a friend? Was she feeling scared? And then when it was time for her to come home, I was on the edge of my seat, practically jumping out of my skin in anticipation, ready to pounce on her with a boisterous, "How was your day...tell me everything...what did you like...what did you not like.."Which would have completely freaked her out. So, I held back and let her talk as she was ready. By the time dinner was on the table, she was spilling over with all the things she had to say.

I listened to her talk about her classes and practice her new french phrases and I realized, she's not a baby anymore, she is growing up. It's hard but I have to let her go. But I am here for her when she gets home.

Tomorrow, Peanut goes to Kindergarten. I can't promise I won't cry because I know I will.