Week one for the boys is in the books!

Cary and Dean finished up their first week at their new school, with nary a complaint to register.

No tears, no mishaps, no nothin'...It's amazing.

Here they are when I picked them up on their first day. See something missing on Cary? Yes. My child broke his glasses. Again. But look how happy he is. Dean was happy too. But he was too busy asking me if we were going to the playground to be bothered to smile.

We also had two-plus days of the new sitter, Miss Arlene. And although Clair is still not really feeling her AT ALL, when I get home from work, she is usually happily ignoring the sitter and playing boisterously with her brothers. As long as she isn't sitting in a corner sobbing or shaking in fear, it is all good with me.

I did come home early the first day of her working and was surprised that no one was there. I called through the house, peeked out the back door, checked upstairs. No kids. No Arlene. Her car was outside and her purse was in the living room. She must be here, I thought. The last place I had left to check was the basement. I put my hand on the door knob to go down there and in a split second, my brain conjured up an image of my children with their throats slit and Miss Arlene dead.

That is how crazy I am, y'all. I just knew this new babysitter had murdered my children and committed suicide. My heart was beating out of my chest. I was freaking out.
When I finally gathered the courage (and the common sense: "Get it together, Tanika!") of course, she wasn't downstairs. And neither were my murdered children.

In fact, she had just taken my very happy and safe children for a walk, because Dean had written a "letter" - literally, he wrote the letter "D" on a piece of paper, folded it up and put it in an envelope - to no one in particular and wanted to mail it. So Arlene drew a stamp on his little envelope and walked with them in search of a mailbox. She didn't kill them. She was actually being VERY sweet to them.

I felt like a heel. And a nut.

But I'll get better. We'll all get better. We're all getting adjusted to the new, much more hectic schedule, and by the end of the day every single one of us is pooped. The kids crash at bedtime like they were working in the salt mines all day. Last night I was asleep by 8:50 p.m. 

But I can tell things are going to get easier. Today, Clair still clung to me for far too long, but didn't cry at all when I dropped her off. In fact, when her teacher took her hand, she simply said in a small voice, "Bye, Mommy," and I closed the pre-K 2 door, and walked away.

Of course, I felt a mixture of pride and happiness and sadness.

Our babies are in school. All three of them. They leave us in the morning and we don't see them again all day long. They are learning things that we don't teach them. They are experiencing things that have absolutely nothing to do with us. In fact, most of the things that happen in their day, we won't even know they've seen or heard or done or felt.

This is the natural course of life, I know. And it is good. And sad. And crazy.
And normal.

Clair's first week is in the books!

Clair's first week of school has been less eventful than I thought, but not as smooth as I'd hoped.

Like most families, I suppose, we've been on a roller coaster of emotions.

Day 2 was Lester's early day at work, so he had to take Clair to school, since I had to wait for Michelle to arrive.


During summer camp, when I asked Lester how Clair did at drop-off, he lied spared my feelings by saying she did "OK," or "just fine." But on Clair's second day of preK -- the first time we left her there alone -- he couldn't even sugar coat it: "Oh, she was so hurt," he said, sadly. "She cried and cried. It was terrible."

Day 2 was a half-day, so I left work to pick her up and bring her home. When I got to her, she was all smiles, and her teacher said she only cried at drop-off and not a tear after that. "She did great today," she said. And on the car ride home, Clair even told me what she did at school! "My teacher reed a book. I see my friends [not that she actually has any.] I eat some snaaaack."
It was great! I don't think Cary and Dean have ever re-capped their day for me. Ever.

On Clair's day 3, Lester dropped her off again because I had to be in Annapolis at 9 a.m. with the boys (long story). His report: "No tears. Minimal clinging. I was pleasantly surprised."

But I was still worried because Day 3 was the first ever "nap in the class" day, which seemed to me to be a potentially high-octane event, just ripe for meltdowns and nervousness. So after I dropped the boys off at home, I went to her school and peeked in on her in the class. Imagine my surprise - and happiness -- when I walked in on this:

That's her teacher, Miss Michelle. I can't tell you how good it felt for me to walk in unannounced and see her teacher sitting there with her hand on my baby girl, comforting her as she slept. Or pretended to sleep.

The closer I got to Clair, the more I could see her eyes flitting about under her eyelids. So I don't think she was actually asleep here. But she was trying! They said it was naptime, so my girl was doing her best to take a nap! Brava, Clair!

I was soooo relieved. I still got weepy seeing her in there trying so hard to do what the teachers wanted her to do. What a good girl! And also, what a poor baby, having to sleep in class and not in her own little bed in her own little room. Ugh. My little baby girl! But I felt like maybe we were on the right path. The pre-school director hugged me on the way out the door. I'm such a sap!

Then this morning, I dropped her off again and guess what? TEARS galore. Ugh!

So I suppose the roller coaster is still in full force, and likely will be for awhile, as next week is another crazy week, getting the boys acclimated to school. She'll even have to get picked up by Miss Arlene -- the new babysitter -- who she has met twice (and thrown her shade both times) and I know that is going to freak her out!

Bottom line: I will be really glad when we are in a solid, predictable routine again. For her sake, and for mine.

Two cute/funny things from this week to note:

In Clair's classroom, the teachers put labels in the cubbies so they'll know who's full-time, who's half-day, who's three days a week, etc. Except for some reason, instead of writing "full-time" on Clair's label, they accidentally wrote "fun time." This tickled me to no end. Clair Davis: Fun times, man. Fun. Times. Hahahaha!

And Cary and Dean - who are so confused as to why Clair's in school and they're not -- got handwritten cards from their new teacher in the mail! They were SO excited!

Isn't that cute? I'm looking forward to them starting school next week. And dreading the craziness that next week is sure to be.

Hello, roller coaster. Please go away soon.

I've got 99 problems and my kids are 3 of them

Sometimes all my kids are going along swimmingly, being insane but normally so, nothing special to report. Same ole, same ole. Another day another diaper.

But these days, I have issues with each one of them. Issues I honestly am not sure how to handle.

Let's start with the oldest, shall we?

Cary: He wore his glasses for two days without problems. Then, all of a sudden, when people are around, he refuses to wear them. At my mother's house, he donned a Batman mask to avoid having to put on his specs. At church, he wouldn't go into his classroom with them on - just flat out refused. And today, when I made him put them on, he took them off and flung them to the floor.
I know part of the problem is that we made a huge tactical error by making a big deal out of the glasses and how cool they were in the beginning. My Dad came by and oohed and aahed; we even asked the hostess at Gertrude's to tell him how handsome he was in his new glasses, which she was happy to do (because he DOES look cute in them!) Turns out, Cary doesn't love all the attention his glasses bring. He told me, "I don't want people to say things about them!" But why he doesn't want to wear them even at home all of sudden, I have no idea. And I don't know what to do to convince him that he has to wear them. I don't want to turn the idea of his glasses into a sore spot, but I keep finding myself threatening him with timeout if he doesn't put them on. The doctor was adamant that he has to wear them full-time or else his vision could get worse. So what else can I do?
Color me stumped.

See? Here he is lying in the bed "reading" a book WITHOUT his glasses.

Dean: Did I post here before about the time Dean stashed a lollipop under his pillow, to eat, I suppose, after the rest of us had gone to bed? I can't remember if I told you all that story. But nevermind that because guess who did it again? This time with a STOLEN piece of candy from Target? Yes, you guessed it. My middle child. While I was in North Carolina for my friend Laurie's 50th birthday, Lester had to take all three kids to Target. At the checkout counter, apparently, Dean spied a piece of candy he wanted, tucked it into his pocket, carried it all the way home, put the candy under his pillow, got undressed, put his pajamas on, and said not. a. word. the whole time about his contraband. Lester only discovered it because the child who has the sophistication to swipe candy, stash it away, DELAY GRATIFICATION (helloooo!) and keep a poker face the entire time is still only 4 and too young to realize that he had to pick up his pillow (hey dumb-dumb, move your hiding place next time, eh?) to get in the bed after our nighttime prayers. Of course, after Lester found the candy, there was a long conversation about stealing and what that means and about honesty, etc. Lester told me later he was "crestfallen" about it. And I am too. I know that Dean doesn't really understand what "stealing" is, but the fact that he is capable of that kind of planned-out deceit is ...unnerving. Not totally surprising -- he's always been the child who looks for things to get into to. But still, it's alarming. Even if he is only 4.
Color me flummoxed.

No cavities at this last check-up, but I don't know what will happen if he keeps stashing candy under his pillow at night. Also, how can I get him to use his powers for good?!?!

Clair:  The first day of summer camp went OK. The next day, not as well, but still OK. By Day 3, she was in tears from the time we started getting her dressed until after Lester dropped the kids off at school. She cries great big, sad tears, and pleads with us with her eyes not to send her to school. "I don't want to go to camp!" she wails. "I want to stay here with Mommy and MiMi!" It breaks my heart. And now, I guess because she's so freaked out by being left at summer camp, she also has reverted back to acting the fool at children's church. Yesterday, for the first time in forever, they flashed us on the screen during service to come get her from her class. Some of it has to do with the fact that yesterday was the day they moved all the pre-school kids up a level, so the boys went from the 3s to the 4s and Clair went from the 18-24mos. class to the 2-year-olds class. So the change wigged her out, I know. But she was crying at home before we even left for church, once she ascertained where we were going. She refused to put her shoes on, thinking that would prevent us from taking her. And at one point, she even started climbing, barefoot and resolute, up the stairs, saying, "I want to stay here - by myself." It rips my heart out the way she cries, and it also affects my mood for a good part of the day. She's just so highly-anxious! I also really worry now about what will happen when we (hopefully/prayerfully) find a new person to take care of the kids afterschool. She LOVES Michelle and will likely flip the funk out when her time with us is up.
Church, camp, school in the fall, a new caregiver -- I just think this whole transition is going to suck suck suck. 
Color me defeated.

How can you be so cute and independent and fearless sometimes and so fearful and anxious and maddening other times? Quit breaking Momma's heart, girl!

Clair starts summer camp!

This is a big week for Clairzee!

First the dentist (which she totally aced), now this. Today Clair started three days a week of summer camp, which is basically just school in the summer.

Again, Lester and I worried ourselves into a tizzy about how she'd do.I couldn't sleep for two nights, thinking about her being in distress and what we would do if she had a conniption at drop-off. After all, aside from church, this is the first time we've ever dropped her off somewhere and left. Ever.

Guess what? Yet again, our baby girl surprised the heck out of us.

She galloped into the school, went into the classroom, said hello to the teachers, and immediately started playing with toys.  No crying, no worrying, nuthin'.

Another good thing: One of the teachers in the summer camp class is going to be Clair's actual teacher in the fall! So yay!

Lester wanted to make sure we didn't trigger Clair's anxiety by lingering too long, so I barely even got to take pictures or say a real good bye. I feel a little ...I don't know...something about all this. Especially because it was so hurried. Like, right now, I sorta feel on the verge of tears, and I'm not exactly sure why. I'm definitely distracted, so I'm going to need to do some mindfulness/centering exercises or something to get any real work done today. (And by mindfulness/centering exercises, of course I mean "chocolate.")

But mostly, I'm just grateful that Clair has Cary and Dean there with her to ease her transition into school. In the fall, she'll be by herself there -- because C and D will be going to their new school across town.

But for a few weeks this summer, they're my three little amigos (hermanos?) and everybody seems quite happy.

 

I guess. (Sniff.)

Change is good

The boys start school a week from today.

To prepare, I wrote out a new schedule for the family that has me and Lester getting up at 6 a.m., and going to bed at 10 p.m. In between those hours, it is go, go, go, go go.

It is a very ambitious schedule that requires us to be on. the. ball. at all times, and leaves little room for spontaneity or screwing up or slacking off. In other words, I am sure I am setting us up for failure.

But we shall see. We're going to dry-run the schedule this week and see how it goes. Lester wants to start tomorrow, but we were at my Mom's all weekend, which means we did no grocery shopping/cooking or laundry, which means I have to cook tonight, which means I am already behind the 8-ball schedule-wise. So I think I will propose we start Wednesday. Or Thursday would be even better. Friday? Do I hear Friday?

Honestly (as you might sense), I don't really want to start at all. Mostly because I am NOT an early morning person, and I think I never will be.  I am sluggish and sloppy in the mornings, and not my best self. Also, I just fundamentally do not like change. I have realized this over time. I like things the way they are, because I understand them the way they are. I have a little bit of latent anxiety about certain changes in life, and this transition is proving to be one of those ones that is making me a bit crazy.

What if waking up earlier makes me highly unhappy?
What if waking the boys up earlier makes THEM higly unhappy?
What if the boys hate school?
What if the boys hate US?
What if Michelle has trouble getting things done now that she has to leave the house every day -- with Clair -- to pick the boys up from school? What if that makes HER highly unhappy?
What if this pre-school stuff just disrupts everything?

These are the kinds of hyperbolic things I think about when I'm fretting about the change on its way. I can see intellectually that I am making mountains out of molehills. But emotionally, I can't stop myself. Hi, I'm Insane. Nice to meet you!

Anyway, I am also -- in turns -- excited about this new chapter in our lives. The boys will love school and their new teacher and friends, I know. And a month or so into this new schedule, it will seem as familiar as the one we live by now.  C & D will learn so many new things, and Clair will benefit from at least a few hours every day of one-on-one time with Michelle, which will be very good for her, too.

It'll all be wonderful in the end, I know.  Even if I'm a thousand times sleepier -- and I have to be a hundred thousand times more organized, it'll all be fine. There's coffee at the office. And Google docs.

Change is good, I keep telling myself. Change is good. Change is good.