A place for anything and everything that comes to mind.

Monday, August 25, 2014

My Buddy & Me

All of this hoopla about Kindergarten, and our "Jan" almost got left out of the mix.

I thought I was done with all of the emotions of Kindergarten until tonight.  We knew lil man was heading off to pre-school tomorrow, but I guess...well...okay, it got overshadowed.  I feel horrible.  I feel like I should have spent more time worrying and dry heaving and crying.  Don't be worried: it's all started in the last few hours.

I love our boy.  So.  Much.  He's crazy.  He's destructive.  He refuses to bend to the will of conformity to become potty-trained and decides to hide under the dining room table to do his business by himself.  (Then, he sneaks out with a WIDE grin on his face and a glint in his eye and declares, "Kean poop.")  He gives the most outstanding hugs in the world, and he longs to be cradled in my lap still.  He runs around shirtless declaring that he's John Henry, "born with a 'ammer, born with a 'ammer in my hand!"  He gives THE BEST wink in the HISTORY OF THE WORLD.  And, if he turns it on you, it WILL be your Kryptonite, and you WILL give him anything he asks for.  He's been working hard in speech since January to get his S's on the beginning of his words, and he's also working on his T's and D's.  Sometimes, though, it's just too hard, and he says, "That's my last 'TUH.'  No more.  All gone now."  His smile has 1.21 gigawatts of awesome behind it, and I'm pretty sure Doc Brown could have used its rays in lieu of a lightening bolt.  He is so sweet  that sometimes my eyes well up from the sheer amazingness of his spirit.

He is ALL boy, and he is ALL ours.  Until tomorrow.

He'll go out into the world of pre-school.  I'm worried (of course I am; worrying IS what I excel at).  Worried that he'll miss Nana and me too much, and his sisters, and start to cry in class.  Or, even worse for my mind's eye, that he'll get his trembly lil chin going and then just crumple up in tears.  I'm worried some boy or girl will take something from him, and he won't understand.  He'll just stare at them with his HUGE blue eyes and wonder what just happened.

I'm worried the same way I was with Big Sister, but with Lil Man, it's just different.  I'll never forget my Aunt Elizabeth telling me how special a bond is between a momma and her son...but since she told me when I was 11, I thought she was just a little high from new baby hormones.  It couldn't be much different than having a girl, could it?  I mean, a boy's still your kid, just like a girl is, so it's all the same, right?  Nope.  I was stupid.  I was wrong.  She was way right...ridiculously right.

I love him so.  He is brave, but delicate.  He is silly, but kind.  He will run rampant, but is reserved when needed.  He is just the best brother and son in the world.  And no kid better mess with him or Mama Bear's comin' down on Chesterbrook.  


Thursday, August 21, 2014

Shine a Light on Me

I love that totally sad, pathetic post from last night.  Why?  Because it's real.  It's what I felt in that moment.  I don't care if people think I'm an overbearing silly mom, because I cry at the thought of my kid going to Kindergarten.  It's the way I am.  I'm programmed to feel things deeply and emotionally, and crying is a great gift--whether it be joyful or sorrowful.

Today a close friend made me see the light, made the sunshine come out, and she reminded me how lucky Kindergarten is to get our sweet girl.  She's going to bring joy to her teacher--hopefully everyday.  She's going to come home enlightened with new knowledge everyday.  I'll get to watch her and coach her through learning to read real books, not just site words, and her excitement and giddiness will be mine, too.  I'll get to listen to her talk about the best music teacher on the planet and learning to sing wonderful new songs.  I'll get to hear her talk about adding and subtracting, because for some reason, I think she's really going to like math and the logic in entails.  I can't wait to hear about ALL OF IT.  She's also going to make other kids smile, and I hope she'll bring happiness to them if they're having a bad day. 

To be honest, I've had moments of fear this summer about where she'll go to school.  There has been a lot of violence and gang activity in the neighborhood that surrounds her building.  But, I feel called and compelled to keep her there for that very reason.  A gentleman in our local paper stated (I'm paraphrasing here) that we can't leave or walk away from this neighborhood, because the gangs and criminals win.  Too right he is.  Baby Girl and her classmates will bring joy to that school and their teacher.  They'll learn together: how to read, write, do math, and I hope how to empathize, sympathize, and change the world.

Watch out, Kindergarten.  Here comes my #1.

Wednesday, August 20, 2014

Bittersweet Day

OK.  So, here's the thing that SUCKS about your little girl going into Kindergarten.

It's not that she's getting older or that she won't be around that much or that you fear and dread and pre-loathe any bully or jerkface kid that might try to cross her path and make her less confident or make her think she isn't beautiful or any other stupid jerkfacey thing.

It's this:

It's the realization that your memory is failing you, and when you look down at this beautiful, intelligent, inquisitive, kind, caring 5-year-old being that you are lucky enough to know...that when you look down at her you can't remember every moment you spent together like you want to.

Already memories are hazy.  So many things go on in our lives, so much, and I can't remember the first time my girl sat up or when she rolled over or when she started saying Mama.  Oh, sure. I always had good intentions of keeping baby books and charting every little thing, but I guess life got in the way.  I hope she knows when she grow up that even though I didn't have a book  for her, I spent time with her, snuggled with her, loved on her, and took her for way too many treats (ice cream, cookies, extra bowls of shredded cheese at El Toro). 

On Friday, August 22, 2014, I want to live in the moment of fear and sadness and hesitation and hope and excitement and JOY of her first day of Kindergarten.  I want to live in the moment of watching her bravely march off to her room, turn and give me her little wave, and then take her seat.  I want to live in that moment and remember it forever, but I'm so afraid of the time it will slip away from me forever, like she eventually will.  That's what sucks the most.