Starting from the top... Jessica is doing really well in third grade. She really likes her teacher and her papers coming home have been consistently in the 90-100 range. I'm really pleased by this - and have now decided to consider second grade just an aberration. I think the combination of it not being a great fit, personality wise, between her and the teacher, plus the fact that she took a little longer than most to stop reversing and transposing numbers was what led to her difficulties there. She seems happier socially as well, which always makes things easier. She's such a big girl - she's so much help sometimes. The past two days, I was running the day care room at the synagogue with my mother, and when Jess was in there, it was like having another adult in there to help with the kids... She still fights with her brother pretty consistently - but even that seems to be getting better at times...
Sam is doing great at school. Just freaking awesome. The first week was utter hell, but after that, things gradually started to improve. He's so much better about going in the mornings now, getting out of the van on his own. He's entering an easy stage, I think. He's just a calm, relaxed, easy kind of boy. Although, with the exception of the massive separation anxiety, he's always been a breeze.
Julianna Ruth is STILL not walking. Just not doing it. She can balance fine, standing up by herself, but at this point, I think it's a mental thing, she's so used cruising along stuff that she won't walk independently. But she's so much fun, all singing and charm. She's getting so big in so many ways - but still so little.
Showing posts with label Sam. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sam. Show all posts
Saturday, October 1, 2011
Saturday, September 24, 2011
Checking in
All is delightful in my little world. Miss Jessie and Sam danced off to Hebrew School happily enough. There's a famous quote by some rabbi that Marc quotes all the time, something about if you want a child to love Torah, give them candy. Which is a good theory - and I'm happy to report that it works wonderfully well. The Education Director dispenses Israeli bubble gum - and you'd think it was solid gold from the way my children react. Sam literally didn't hesitate, he got dressed and bopped out the door, throwing a kiss back at me.
School is going so much better for him - he's MUCH better in the mornings, getting out of the van on his own. He never seems delighted to go, but he doesn't panic anymore either. I've even gone into his classroom and been able to leave without him crying. He still won't sit on the carpet with the class, strangely enough, but his teacher has a little chair set up right next to the carpet and he's happy as can be to sit there.
Jessie took Rebecca Rubin to Hebrew today. She actually brought her to school yesterday too - I'm REALLY glad that we bought the doll for her. She wanted it so desperately a couple of years ago, but they're SO expensive. We made her earn money, farming her out to grandparents and other family members to polish furniture or rake leaves, so that she'd pay for at least part of it. It was partly that it was so expensive, but I'd like think even if we were independently wealthy, we still would have do it this way. I wanted to make sure that she'd really appreciate her, and it definitely worked - she loves that doll. But I was shocked the other day when I went into her classroom for lunch, because almost all of the little girls had brought in their American Girl dolls and many of them had more than one. One kid had SIX. And there were several girls that had four of them. These dolls literally cost close to one hundred dollars. That's so much money - on a doll. Granted, Jessica does truly cherish the doll, and she's well made and pretty - but still. I can't imagine a parent actually spending that much money on dolls. Six American Girl dolls, plus all the clothing, furniture, books, hair care accessories (because if you're paying in excess of six hundred dollars on just the dolls, why not get all the other crap that goes along with it?). We're talking easily a month's rent on just toys for one child. Baffling... but also - really glad that my daughter has at least one doll so she can play with the other kids - and also glad that we were smart enough about it to make her really value the thing.
Speaking of valuing dolls - Julianna also adores Rebecca. To be fair, she also adores the six other baby dolls that she has managed to steal from her older sister. Jessie, at this point, can really only claim to have our beloved Poopado (her baby doll that she loved to death) and Rebecca as "her" dolls. Because Julianna has taken over the rest of them, and screams unmercifully if Jess has the audacity to try and play with one.
School is going so much better for him - he's MUCH better in the mornings, getting out of the van on his own. He never seems delighted to go, but he doesn't panic anymore either. I've even gone into his classroom and been able to leave without him crying. He still won't sit on the carpet with the class, strangely enough, but his teacher has a little chair set up right next to the carpet and he's happy as can be to sit there.
Jessie took Rebecca Rubin to Hebrew today. She actually brought her to school yesterday too - I'm REALLY glad that we bought the doll for her. She wanted it so desperately a couple of years ago, but they're SO expensive. We made her earn money, farming her out to grandparents and other family members to polish furniture or rake leaves, so that she'd pay for at least part of it. It was partly that it was so expensive, but I'd like think even if we were independently wealthy, we still would have do it this way. I wanted to make sure that she'd really appreciate her, and it definitely worked - she loves that doll. But I was shocked the other day when I went into her classroom for lunch, because almost all of the little girls had brought in their American Girl dolls and many of them had more than one. One kid had SIX. And there were several girls that had four of them. These dolls literally cost close to one hundred dollars. That's so much money - on a doll. Granted, Jessica does truly cherish the doll, and she's well made and pretty - but still. I can't imagine a parent actually spending that much money on dolls. Six American Girl dolls, plus all the clothing, furniture, books, hair care accessories (because if you're paying in excess of six hundred dollars on just the dolls, why not get all the other crap that goes along with it?). We're talking easily a month's rent on just toys for one child. Baffling... but also - really glad that my daughter has at least one doll so she can play with the other kids - and also glad that we were smart enough about it to make her really value the thing.
Speaking of valuing dolls - Julianna also adores Rebecca. To be fair, she also adores the six other baby dolls that she has managed to steal from her older sister. Jessie, at this point, can really only claim to have our beloved Poopado (her baby doll that she loved to death) and Rebecca as "her" dolls. Because Julianna has taken over the rest of them, and screams unmercifully if Jess has the audacity to try and play with one.
Monday, September 19, 2011
Thoughts from a newly freed mother
Mothering is obviously different for each mother and differenter (is that even a word??) for each child of each specific mother. My experiences mothering is different for each child. And while my love for each child is quantitatively the same for each one, the level of intensity seems different. The level of need of each child has been different.
It's a hard topic to write about, because I'm very conscious of the kids, years from now, reading my blog and hollering something to the effect "holy moly, Mom really did love you best" and it's not that at all. It's not that Sam loves me more than the girls do, and absolutely not that I love him more than the girls. In fact, I can make compelling arguments that each one of them is my favorite child.
Simply that Sam, from the moment he was born, had a very intense attachment to me. It was inconceivable that I return to work after he was born, not because I couldn't leave him, but because he was so miserable without me that it would have been awful for him. He was a colicy mess, with reflux and non-stop nursing. I remember counting the number of times I nursed him one day, and hit 24 before mid-afternoon. He spent months nursing, crying and sleeping. That was his whole world. Without me, it would have been just straight crying.
I've always been aware of his need for me. Sam was a fragile child. Not physically, but emotionally. Socially. He was not comfortable when he wasn't with me. And I was always aware of that. Always wanted to make things easier for him - so I nursed him way longer than I wanted to, and didn't force him to go to preschool or parties without me. I took him everywhere with me, and was always conscious of his needs. Which isn't to say that I didn't do that with Jessica or with Julie. But for example, Jessica stopped nursing before she was a year old, and I worked off and on until after Sam was born. She was okay. She missed me, but was capable of detaching enough to play and have fun. Sam wasn't. Julianna is still nursing at seventeen months, with no sign of stopping, but she's also a complete Daddy's girl. Sam has never been able to be comforted by anyone other than me.
And now he's a big boy. I've seen him really grow, in the past two weeks. He was ready to break out of his shell, literally. He's thriving. He's opening up to the world, in a way that's amazing to me. He's talking to people, interacting with other adults. I'm so, so proud of him. I'm so happy that he's learning that he's safe and secure without me there.
I feel... free-er. I feel... lighter. I feel like I could go back to work, take up a new hobby. I could do... all sorts of things. It's not that I'm not still a mom, it's not that I'm not still a mom of a toddler (stubbornly refusing to toddle, but that's another post...). It's not that Sam still doesn't need and want me, but his needs are more managable now. His whole world is bigger than me, and I feel... liberated.
It's a hard topic to write about, because I'm very conscious of the kids, years from now, reading my blog and hollering something to the effect "holy moly, Mom really did love you best" and it's not that at all. It's not that Sam loves me more than the girls do, and absolutely not that I love him more than the girls. In fact, I can make compelling arguments that each one of them is my favorite child.
Simply that Sam, from the moment he was born, had a very intense attachment to me. It was inconceivable that I return to work after he was born, not because I couldn't leave him, but because he was so miserable without me that it would have been awful for him. He was a colicy mess, with reflux and non-stop nursing. I remember counting the number of times I nursed him one day, and hit 24 before mid-afternoon. He spent months nursing, crying and sleeping. That was his whole world. Without me, it would have been just straight crying.
I've always been aware of his need for me. Sam was a fragile child. Not physically, but emotionally. Socially. He was not comfortable when he wasn't with me. And I was always aware of that. Always wanted to make things easier for him - so I nursed him way longer than I wanted to, and didn't force him to go to preschool or parties without me. I took him everywhere with me, and was always conscious of his needs. Which isn't to say that I didn't do that with Jessica or with Julie. But for example, Jessica stopped nursing before she was a year old, and I worked off and on until after Sam was born. She was okay. She missed me, but was capable of detaching enough to play and have fun. Sam wasn't. Julianna is still nursing at seventeen months, with no sign of stopping, but she's also a complete Daddy's girl. Sam has never been able to be comforted by anyone other than me.
And now he's a big boy. I've seen him really grow, in the past two weeks. He was ready to break out of his shell, literally. He's thriving. He's opening up to the world, in a way that's amazing to me. He's talking to people, interacting with other adults. I'm so, so proud of him. I'm so happy that he's learning that he's safe and secure without me there.
I feel... free-er. I feel... lighter. I feel like I could go back to work, take up a new hobby. I could do... all sorts of things. It's not that I'm not still a mom, it's not that I'm not still a mom of a toddler (stubbornly refusing to toddle, but that's another post...). It's not that Sam still doesn't need and want me, but his needs are more managable now. His whole world is bigger than me, and I feel... liberated.
Saturday, September 17, 2011
Holy moly, Sam is actually social
We went to my mother's house last night. For no real reason, I wanted to show off the new van, and thought I'd nag Mandi into cutting my hair (because I was ready to take the scissors to it myself, and I knew she'd hate that) and Samilicious Boy was ... just freaking awesome.
Sam has been somewhat challenging for me at times, because he's always been so incredibly introverted. He just flat out didn't like people. He didn't like talking to them, didn't like associating with them. He liked to be at home, with me, or with Marc, and that was it. We'd go to someone's house and eventually (usually after an hour or so), he'd relax a little and start playing, but more often than not, he'd refuse to talk to adults.
But last night - it was like he was a different kid. No, it was like he was the kid he is at home when it's just us. Very talkative and sweet and funny. It was such a lovely feeling, it was like he was finally breaking out of his shell and everyone else got to see this great, awesome little boy. I was so happy.
School is going so much better. I had a long talk with the principal, and we've changed a couple of things. Number one - I don't drop off anymore. Or rather, I still totally drop off, but the principal comes and gets him out of the car and Jessie walks him into school. The principal is out there every morning anyway, and we time it so we get there just before the bell rings so she's available to help get him away from the car. And major, major kudos to Miss Jessica - because she holds his hand and walks him to his class each morning. I LOVE this. It really, really makes me so happy to see her being so responsible and caring, and to see how much he loves and trusts her. We also instituted a "token" system - where he gets a token for going in without crying, a token for sitting with the group and listening, etc.
It's odd, because other than the drop off, he's perfect. He's well behaved, his teacher told me the other day that he was just such a sweet, sweet boy. He's interacting and participating and playing with the other kids - he just freaking hates leaving me.
Sam has been somewhat challenging for me at times, because he's always been so incredibly introverted. He just flat out didn't like people. He didn't like talking to them, didn't like associating with them. He liked to be at home, with me, or with Marc, and that was it. We'd go to someone's house and eventually (usually after an hour or so), he'd relax a little and start playing, but more often than not, he'd refuse to talk to adults.
But last night - it was like he was a different kid. No, it was like he was the kid he is at home when it's just us. Very talkative and sweet and funny. It was such a lovely feeling, it was like he was finally breaking out of his shell and everyone else got to see this great, awesome little boy. I was so happy.
School is going so much better. I had a long talk with the principal, and we've changed a couple of things. Number one - I don't drop off anymore. Or rather, I still totally drop off, but the principal comes and gets him out of the car and Jessie walks him into school. The principal is out there every morning anyway, and we time it so we get there just before the bell rings so she's available to help get him away from the car. And major, major kudos to Miss Jessica - because she holds his hand and walks him to his class each morning. I LOVE this. It really, really makes me so happy to see her being so responsible and caring, and to see how much he loves and trusts her. We also instituted a "token" system - where he gets a token for going in without crying, a token for sitting with the group and listening, etc.
It's odd, because other than the drop off, he's perfect. He's well behaved, his teacher told me the other day that he was just such a sweet, sweet boy. He's interacting and participating and playing with the other kids - he just freaking hates leaving me.
Monday, September 12, 2011
Settling in to the school year
This will come as no surprise to most of you, but I really, really don't like mornings. And now that Sam is going to school, I have a special dislike of them. Because he's going to school, and he's SO GOOD about it. After years of Jessie being angry that she's got to go, Sam's sadness in the mornings is so much harder to take. I know that it's just that Sam is what's now, and Jessie is mostly (with the notable exception of this morning) so much better now, it seems like his is worse. But Sam cries pretty much every morning, sadly, with resignation, and goes in every day, and Julie screams and sobs when I get out of the car to bring him in. Marc drops us off, and I haul Sam's poor butt into school and throw a kiss Jessie's way as she charges off to the third grade area.
I'm the first to admit that I'm a wussy mom in a lot of respects - notably, I don't like leaving my kids crying. For the most part - if they really don't want to go somewhere, I don't make them. If they've been invited for a playdate and start crying at the drop-off, I'll take them home with me or stick around and hang out with the mom. If I've lined up a sitter, and they start crying hard at the prospect of being left behind, if it's possible, I'll take them with me. I don't leave them crying. Now suddenly, I do that every morning with Sam. I make Julie scream every morning. And I hate it with every fiber of my being.
The upside is that Jessie is pretty happy most mornings to go, and Sam always says he had a wonderful day. Jessica is obviously thriving, she loves third grade, and Sam is always coming home happy and content. I know that this is what's best - Sam is learning and growing so much, and Jessie really, really seems to be doing great this year. So I know that's it's good that they go - but mornings continue to be the worst part of my day.
In other news - we're officially on the hunt for a van. We're actually looking at conversion vans instead of a minivan, because they're cheaper. And in some cases, nicer. One ad claims that if we buy his van, it'll be just like driving in our living room. Our volvo has performed admirably for the last several years, but it's over fifteen years old, and it's tired. We've outgrown it - the older three won't sit in the way back anymore, and we need to replace the tires, the power steering hose and probably the pump. So we're car searching. Actually, Marc's car searching, as this is somewhat outside of my comfort zone. I don't know cars at all, and don't really care what we end up with, as long as it'll drive well and be pretty.
Busy, busy weekend here, Annie and Glenny were down, which was delightful, and Jordyn, Sarah and Joshua (Virginia's kids) were here all day on Sunday. Am putting the house back together slowly... plus Mike Wilder gave me a lawnmower, so that's on my list to do to (the backyard, I already did the front). I'm finding that I really enjoy mowing the lawn - it's the one chore that I do where the results LAST for a while. Vacuuming used to be fun, because you could enjoy the results, but with three kids, I could vacuum three times a day and still have a rug covered with blocks and cracker crumbs. Laundry used to be fun - but now I'm never actually caught up, I've always got a load or two to wash, a load or two to fold and oceans to put away. But mowing the lawn - that lasts for at least a week or two :-)
Thursday, September 8, 2011
I do have other children....
I know Sam's been monopolizing my blogging world lately - and I'm happy to report that today was the best day so far. No tears at all until we got into the classroom, and even then he was just a little misty, and his teacher immediately sat down and started engaging him in conversation. He was so brave... he said "Goodbye Mama" just like a big boy. Granted, he was talking in that sad, sad little voice, and it broke my heart just a little that he was being so grown up and big about it...
In other news - Jessie is loving third grade. Really. She didn't like second grade, and I'm very happy that this year, she seems to have really clicked with her teacher and feels a lot more secure at school. She's been bopping off happily enough to school and doing homework with a minimum of nagging.
Just to go back to Sam for a minute :-), we've also really succeeded in adapting their sleep schedule. Sam has always been such a solid sleeper, a good 11-12 hours every night, and now that he's getting up earlier, he goes to bed easily and early - which means that Jessie is going to bed easier as well. She's even getting to stay up later than he does, which delights her.
Julianna isn't walking yet - and I'm beginning to wonder if she'll just crawl her way into kindergarten. She's missing the kids during the day, but overall, seems to be adjusting to being the only one at home very well. She's teething again - and the poor kid is just miserable with it. Runny nose and much sadness - but in between times, she's still so delightful and happy. She's just a happy kid. Very into board books and blocks and baby dolls (I don't intentionally limit her to B toys, it just works out that way).
In other news - Jessie is loving third grade. Really. She didn't like second grade, and I'm very happy that this year, she seems to have really clicked with her teacher and feels a lot more secure at school. She's been bopping off happily enough to school and doing homework with a minimum of nagging.
Just to go back to Sam for a minute :-), we've also really succeeded in adapting their sleep schedule. Sam has always been such a solid sleeper, a good 11-12 hours every night, and now that he's getting up earlier, he goes to bed easily and early - which means that Jessie is going to bed easier as well. She's even getting to stay up later than he does, which delights her.
Julianna isn't walking yet - and I'm beginning to wonder if she'll just crawl her way into kindergarten. She's missing the kids during the day, but overall, seems to be adjusting to being the only one at home very well. She's teething again - and the poor kid is just miserable with it. Runny nose and much sadness - but in between times, she's still so delightful and happy. She's just a happy kid. Very into board books and blocks and baby dolls (I don't intentionally limit her to B toys, it just works out that way).
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Today wasn't as bad
In comparison with yesterday, at least. He only cried for about five minutes, and calmed down before I got back to the classroom with the adjustment counselor. I carried him in again, and did the hand off, his teacher took him out of my arms and held him back from chasing me out the door.
And he did great, yesterday. In the end, after all. He did get thru the whole day, and when his teacher called at 1:30, she assured me that he was okay during the day. Shy, reserved, but in the end, he did talk to other kids and participate.
But even knowing that he's doing so much better, even knowing that school is what's right for him, I'm still a bit wistful and sad today. There's a couple of different reasons. First - Sam is a child who really just genuinely loved being home. Given the choice between going out and staying home, he'd stay home. He likes home stuff, not just watching television or playing on the computer, but building forts and playing with his "guys", the little plastic figures. He loves cooking with me, or vacuuming the rug, or playing with his little sister. He's a homebody. And now his days are spent at school. Which is kind of sad to me. Not rational, I know that. But still... I feel sad for him. This isn't what he'd want to do, and for most of his life, his wants have been pretty much the same as his needs. He wanted a lot of time at home, and I felt, and Marc felt, that he needed that - so we made the sacrifices necessary for him to have a stay at home parent.
Plus there's a sense of loss, I think, whenever your child reaches a milestone. The first bite of solid food, the first step, etc. It's wonderful and amazing and fabulous that he's reached this age. That he's big enough for big boy school, and I'm immensely proud of how well he's handling it. But I miss my baby. I miss him at home with me.
And he did great, yesterday. In the end, after all. He did get thru the whole day, and when his teacher called at 1:30, she assured me that he was okay during the day. Shy, reserved, but in the end, he did talk to other kids and participate.
But even knowing that he's doing so much better, even knowing that school is what's right for him, I'm still a bit wistful and sad today. There's a couple of different reasons. First - Sam is a child who really just genuinely loved being home. Given the choice between going out and staying home, he'd stay home. He likes home stuff, not just watching television or playing on the computer, but building forts and playing with his "guys", the little plastic figures. He loves cooking with me, or vacuuming the rug, or playing with his little sister. He's a homebody. And now his days are spent at school. Which is kind of sad to me. Not rational, I know that. But still... I feel sad for him. This isn't what he'd want to do, and for most of his life, his wants have been pretty much the same as his needs. He wanted a lot of time at home, and I felt, and Marc felt, that he needed that - so we made the sacrifices necessary for him to have a stay at home parent.
Plus there's a sense of loss, I think, whenever your child reaches a milestone. The first bite of solid food, the first step, etc. It's wonderful and amazing and fabulous that he's reached this age. That he's big enough for big boy school, and I'm immensely proud of how well he's handling it. But I miss my baby. I miss him at home with me.
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
No pictures of this milestone....
(I'm linking to a Dare to Share post on the Lightning and the Lightning Bug website - the prompt was to write about a "big day." The day Sam started kindergarten is one that I'll never forget, and reading this post still makes me cry)
The kindergarten drop off was horrific. Despite the fact that he tried on his outfit yesterday to make sure his new pants fit, and we had numerous conversations about what he'd be bringing for snack and lunch - he still managed to block out that TODAY was actually the first day of school. I got him to sleep nice and early last night, and got him up with plenty of extra time this morning. We were sitting on the couch, all snuggled up and I was going to just let him relax and wake up before I started doing the "get dresssed, get fed, get out" routine. Jessica came in, plopped down next to him and said (as is customary with her every morning) "I don't want to go to school today."
Sam looked up at me, with the big, big eyes and said in a tremulous little voice "I don't have to go, do I?" I was sunshiney happy and said "Today's your first day!". But all my (fake) joy was for naught, because he immediately started sobbing. Cried right thru his cheerios and getting dressed, whimpered thru the rest of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse and then ramped up to screaming as I carried him downstairs and buckled him in.
He cried thru the ride to the school, begging to "just please go home." He cried thru the long walk down the driveway to the school, and refused to let me put him down (this is a kid who has refused to be carried since he was younger than Julianna). I held him thru the introductions to the other parents, and tried to get him excited about all the fun toys and books and other kids in class. All the parents and all the kids were all crowded into this classroom, and it was nine thousand degrees. The worst part was that I have a sneaky suspicion that Sam was actually feverish. He was so congested last night, and if it was November, I would have kept him home sick today. But he had to go to the first day. So I gave him some tylenol - and Mary Poppin-ed him with a spoonful of chocolate syrup to bribe him (just a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down...).
When the time came - when his teacher had called all the other kids to go take a seat on the rug, and Sam remained glued - koala style - to me, his teacher came over. She looked me in the eyes, asked quietly if I was ready, and when I nodded, she pried his little body off me and I slipped thru the throngs of other parents, wiping tears off my cheeks. I didn't actually start crying until I got the hall, and many other moms came over to hug me. As he screamed and howled in the classroom. My friend Sara came out (her daughter Jordyn was sitting happily on the rug with all the other well adjusted kids) and said if it made me feel any better, Sam did almost manage to knock the teacher off her feet, because he was screaming and kicking and howling so much. "Seriously - he almost took her down."
It got better after that - he stayed in the classroom, and after a bit, the school adjustment guy went in to sit with him. Within an hour, he had moved from hysterical screaming, to resigned moaning, to actually sitting quietly, to playing by himself next to the class, and then just before we left, he was actually sitting at a table, interacting with another kid.
Tomorrow can't possibly be as bad, right?
The kindergarten drop off was horrific. Despite the fact that he tried on his outfit yesterday to make sure his new pants fit, and we had numerous conversations about what he'd be bringing for snack and lunch - he still managed to block out that TODAY was actually the first day of school. I got him to sleep nice and early last night, and got him up with plenty of extra time this morning. We were sitting on the couch, all snuggled up and I was going to just let him relax and wake up before I started doing the "get dresssed, get fed, get out" routine. Jessica came in, plopped down next to him and said (as is customary with her every morning) "I don't want to go to school today."
Sam looked up at me, with the big, big eyes and said in a tremulous little voice "I don't have to go, do I?" I was sunshiney happy and said "Today's your first day!". But all my (fake) joy was for naught, because he immediately started sobbing. Cried right thru his cheerios and getting dressed, whimpered thru the rest of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse and then ramped up to screaming as I carried him downstairs and buckled him in.
He cried thru the ride to the school, begging to "just please go home." He cried thru the long walk down the driveway to the school, and refused to let me put him down (this is a kid who has refused to be carried since he was younger than Julianna). I held him thru the introductions to the other parents, and tried to get him excited about all the fun toys and books and other kids in class. All the parents and all the kids were all crowded into this classroom, and it was nine thousand degrees. The worst part was that I have a sneaky suspicion that Sam was actually feverish. He was so congested last night, and if it was November, I would have kept him home sick today. But he had to go to the first day. So I gave him some tylenol - and Mary Poppin-ed him with a spoonful of chocolate syrup to bribe him (just a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down...).
When the time came - when his teacher had called all the other kids to go take a seat on the rug, and Sam remained glued - koala style - to me, his teacher came over. She looked me in the eyes, asked quietly if I was ready, and when I nodded, she pried his little body off me and I slipped thru the throngs of other parents, wiping tears off my cheeks. I didn't actually start crying until I got the hall, and many other moms came over to hug me. As he screamed and howled in the classroom. My friend Sara came out (her daughter Jordyn was sitting happily on the rug with all the other well adjusted kids) and said if it made me feel any better, Sam did almost manage to knock the teacher off her feet, because he was screaming and kicking and howling so much. "Seriously - he almost took her down."
It got better after that - he stayed in the classroom, and after a bit, the school adjustment guy went in to sit with him. Within an hour, he had moved from hysterical screaming, to resigned moaning, to actually sitting quietly, to playing by himself next to the class, and then just before we left, he was actually sitting at a table, interacting with another kid.
Tomorrow can't possibly be as bad, right?
Monday, September 5, 2011
Please don't make me do it
This was my first thought this morning, upon waking up and realizing that TOMORROW I send Sammy off to school. I've got a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. My head knows it's the right thing to do, my head thinks that I've loved and raised him and part of his growing up is learning to be okay without me. He'll be with professional, loving, dedicated teachers and staff, learning his letters and how to add. It's what I want for him. I know that. And it's not like I'm shipping him off to boarding school, I'll get him back every afternoon and all day on the weekends.
But I'm near tears already - and I've still got about twenty three hours left on the countdown.
But I'm near tears already - and I've still got about twenty three hours left on the countdown.
Friday, September 2, 2011
The plan for Sam's first day
The principal called today and had a nice long chat with Marc about my exceptionally anti-social five year old. I'm mostly relieved that the school is being so pro-active about making the transition to school as trauma-free as possible, but a tiny part of me is wondering if he's the only kid getting this special treatment...
The plan, as it stands now, is for us to accompany him to school for the first day (which we'd do anyway, of course). They'll immediately buddy him up with his best friend Jordyn, and ask that Marc and/or I stay at the school, not in the classroom, but in the office or lobby area to rescue him if it's really awful for him. The principal plans on dismissing him for the day no later than 11:00 (as opposed to 2:20 with the rest of his class). I'm still dreading it, hard core.
He's my buddy. It wasn't any easier sending Jessica off for her first day. And I don't know if it's worse with Sam or if it's just that Sam is what I'm dealing with NOW so it feels worse. Jessie wasn't traumatized without me. She wasn't horrified at being left alone in school. Sam's flat out devastated that he's not going to be with me all day. Insisting on that - sending him off to school, even though I know it's the right thing to do, even though I intellectually know that he's ready for it, intelligence-wise, socially, insisting that he be without me runs so far against the way that I'm raising him. It just feels flat out wrong.
I can tell myself that it's good for him. That giving him a gentle nudge out of the nest is what's needed right now. That he'll thrive in school. And I'll be chanting the little pep talk to myself on Tuesday, when they peel his sobbing little body off of my legs and drag him, kicking and screaming, into the classroom.
Ugh - I so don't want to do this. The worst part is that I called the school department when I was battling with the idea of sending Jessica off to school, and I KNOW that kindergarten isn't mandatory in Massachusetts. I can skip it entirely and enroll him in first grade without having to do anything with the school system for homeschooling.
BUT - he needs to learn that the world is safe even when I'm not right there. He needs to learn to trust other adults. He's good with other kids - having the other day care kids here from the beginning certainly helped with that. He's always been great with other kids his age, and with four sisters, he's certainly socialized fine. But he's always been with me. It's leaving me. That's what's going to be so hard.
I'm faking it well - I keep beaming about him going to school, raving about how much fun it'll be, how much he'll love it. But I know that my heart is going to break a little bit on Tuesday, and I'm going to miss my buddy like you wouldn't believe.
The plan, as it stands now, is for us to accompany him to school for the first day (which we'd do anyway, of course). They'll immediately buddy him up with his best friend Jordyn, and ask that Marc and/or I stay at the school, not in the classroom, but in the office or lobby area to rescue him if it's really awful for him. The principal plans on dismissing him for the day no later than 11:00 (as opposed to 2:20 with the rest of his class). I'm still dreading it, hard core.
He's my buddy. It wasn't any easier sending Jessica off for her first day. And I don't know if it's worse with Sam or if it's just that Sam is what I'm dealing with NOW so it feels worse. Jessie wasn't traumatized without me. She wasn't horrified at being left alone in school. Sam's flat out devastated that he's not going to be with me all day. Insisting on that - sending him off to school, even though I know it's the right thing to do, even though I intellectually know that he's ready for it, intelligence-wise, socially, insisting that he be without me runs so far against the way that I'm raising him. It just feels flat out wrong.
I can tell myself that it's good for him. That giving him a gentle nudge out of the nest is what's needed right now. That he'll thrive in school. And I'll be chanting the little pep talk to myself on Tuesday, when they peel his sobbing little body off of my legs and drag him, kicking and screaming, into the classroom.
Ugh - I so don't want to do this. The worst part is that I called the school department when I was battling with the idea of sending Jessica off to school, and I KNOW that kindergarten isn't mandatory in Massachusetts. I can skip it entirely and enroll him in first grade without having to do anything with the school system for homeschooling.
BUT - he needs to learn that the world is safe even when I'm not right there. He needs to learn to trust other adults. He's good with other kids - having the other day care kids here from the beginning certainly helped with that. He's always been great with other kids his age, and with four sisters, he's certainly socialized fine. But he's always been with me. It's leaving me. That's what's going to be so hard.
I'm faking it well - I keep beaming about him going to school, raving about how much fun it'll be, how much he'll love it. But I know that my heart is going to break a little bit on Tuesday, and I'm going to miss my buddy like you wouldn't believe.
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
I hate back to school
There. I've said it. I really hate this time of year. I like having my kids around all the time, and while I'm fully convinced that it's the best for them to attend school, in my heart of hearts, sending them off to be with other people all day seems as wrong now as it did when they were infants. They're mine. I want them with me.
Maybe it'd help if either one of them was in the least bit enthusiastic about it - but they aren't. Jessie has been a wreck, rocketing back and forth between excitement over getting "organized" (she must get that from Marc, her odd delight in putting things in order) and sobbing because she's dead certain that she's got the meanest teacher in the world and she doesn't like a single soul that's in her class. Sam is resigned to going, I think. But he's been a little extra clingy, and all I can think is that this time next week, he's going to be a little pool of Sammy Misery, all tears and heartbreak because I have to send him away ALL DAY LONG.
I hate shopping for school supplies, I hate glue sticks and pencil sharpeners and trying to figure out what's going to "cool" for Jessica this year. I hate the agonies over wearing sneaker for gym (Jessie hates sneakers and only ever wears them when she's got gym class, and always sobs over it), trying to pick out clothes every morning (and I know we should pick them out the night before, but anyone who says that'll work doesn't have an indecisive, moody eight year old, who will blithely agree with the outfit the night before and then decide she hates it and can't possibly wear it the next morning). I hate packing lunch, I hate fighting over homework. I hate making them go in the morning.
All of this is just based on sending Jessica Mary to school. I can't begin to tell you how much I'm dreading sending Samilicious Boy out the door. The hardest part for me is constantly pretending that going to school is the best thing since sliced bread, and they'll LOVE it - third grade is the BEST and kindergarten? Holy moly, kindergarten is more fun that anything! When the truth is that I don't want to send them at all. Intellectually, I know that it's the right thing to send them to school. Temperment wise - Jessica and I would not do well homeschooling, we're too much alike, and I think if I didn't kill her, she'd kill me. If there was any doubt in my mind, kicking her butt to get the book reports done this summer convinced me. And Sam needs a little nudge to go out into the world. He's very shy and antisocial, and I'm hoping that kindergarten encourages him to be a little more social. Or at least, not so out and out terrified of strangers. It's not terrified, he's not afraid of people, he just honestly doesn't like people in general. In specific, he's fine, he loves us, he's got friends, neighbors, relatives, etc. But in general, he doesn't like people.
Ahh - general grumpiness all over the place today. Jess has been sarcastic and disrespectful a lot lately, and I explained to her today that I wasn't going to spend the next ten years being treated like crap, and from now on, every single time she was wretched to me, she'd be sent to her room and I'd make her write "I will not speak to my mother disrespectfully again." over and over and over. It's either that, or I'm just going to start beating her with a stick. I know she's stressed about tomorrow. But with her stress and Julianna's teething misery, it's not a good day to be bitchy to me. That's all I'm saying.
Maybe it'd help if either one of them was in the least bit enthusiastic about it - but they aren't. Jessie has been a wreck, rocketing back and forth between excitement over getting "organized" (she must get that from Marc, her odd delight in putting things in order) and sobbing because she's dead certain that she's got the meanest teacher in the world and she doesn't like a single soul that's in her class. Sam is resigned to going, I think. But he's been a little extra clingy, and all I can think is that this time next week, he's going to be a little pool of Sammy Misery, all tears and heartbreak because I have to send him away ALL DAY LONG.
I hate shopping for school supplies, I hate glue sticks and pencil sharpeners and trying to figure out what's going to "cool" for Jessica this year. I hate the agonies over wearing sneaker for gym (Jessie hates sneakers and only ever wears them when she's got gym class, and always sobs over it), trying to pick out clothes every morning (and I know we should pick them out the night before, but anyone who says that'll work doesn't have an indecisive, moody eight year old, who will blithely agree with the outfit the night before and then decide she hates it and can't possibly wear it the next morning). I hate packing lunch, I hate fighting over homework. I hate making them go in the morning.
All of this is just based on sending Jessica Mary to school. I can't begin to tell you how much I'm dreading sending Samilicious Boy out the door. The hardest part for me is constantly pretending that going to school is the best thing since sliced bread, and they'll LOVE it - third grade is the BEST and kindergarten? Holy moly, kindergarten is more fun that anything! When the truth is that I don't want to send them at all. Intellectually, I know that it's the right thing to send them to school. Temperment wise - Jessica and I would not do well homeschooling, we're too much alike, and I think if I didn't kill her, she'd kill me. If there was any doubt in my mind, kicking her butt to get the book reports done this summer convinced me. And Sam needs a little nudge to go out into the world. He's very shy and antisocial, and I'm hoping that kindergarten encourages him to be a little more social. Or at least, not so out and out terrified of strangers. It's not terrified, he's not afraid of people, he just honestly doesn't like people in general. In specific, he's fine, he loves us, he's got friends, neighbors, relatives, etc. But in general, he doesn't like people.
Ahh - general grumpiness all over the place today. Jess has been sarcastic and disrespectful a lot lately, and I explained to her today that I wasn't going to spend the next ten years being treated like crap, and from now on, every single time she was wretched to me, she'd be sent to her room and I'd make her write "I will not speak to my mother disrespectfully again." over and over and over. It's either that, or I'm just going to start beating her with a stick. I know she's stressed about tomorrow. But with her stress and Julianna's teething misery, it's not a good day to be bitchy to me. That's all I'm saying.
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Bags, D&D, and can you have PMS when you're eight?
Julianna loves bags. Lunch bags, backpacks, little girl pocketbooks, you name it, she'll crawl (yes, she's still not walking) around the house with it. We did the back to school shopping and she's delighted by Jessie's new multicolored lunchbox and thrilled to death with Sam's Super Mario Brothers lunchbox. She's fascinated with Marc's big backpack full of D&D books and one of her favorite activities has always been going thru my pocketbook.
I think I'm finally getting better. Day 2 with no Sudafed.
Sam is playing little kid Dungeons and Dragons in the dining room with Marc and the two teenagers from across the street. I'm 99% sure he has no idea what he's doing, but he's holy moly into it. As is Marc. I got a whole geek fest going on in there. I made them cupcakes.
Jessica Mary - my precious little angel love bug, she's been in the throes of something unpleasant as of late. Call it hormones, call it crappy attitude, call it end of summer misery and back to school anxiety. I've called it just about everything, and have yet to come up with a solution yet. She's weepy and miserable and mean and nasty - interspersed with these glimmers of angelic behavior. I'm struggling with how to best deal with her behavior - and reminding myself that it doesn't actually get any easier as your kids grow up, it just gets more complicated.
I think I'm finally getting better. Day 2 with no Sudafed.
Sam is playing little kid Dungeons and Dragons in the dining room with Marc and the two teenagers from across the street. I'm 99% sure he has no idea what he's doing, but he's holy moly into it. As is Marc. I got a whole geek fest going on in there. I made them cupcakes.
Jessica Mary - my precious little angel love bug, she's been in the throes of something unpleasant as of late. Call it hormones, call it crappy attitude, call it end of summer misery and back to school anxiety. I've called it just about everything, and have yet to come up with a solution yet. She's weepy and miserable and mean and nasty - interspersed with these glimmers of angelic behavior. I'm struggling with how to best deal with her behavior - and reminding myself that it doesn't actually get any easier as your kids grow up, it just gets more complicated.
Monday, August 22, 2011
Still sick, but getting better...
This isn't a bad cold, exactly. But it's a long lasting one, I feel as though we've been collectively sick forever. Today, I charged out into the world, taking all three kids down to the mall. Jessie loves the mall above all else, and so for her, it was a dream come true. We bought lunch, Chinese chicken and nuggets and french fries, then wandered around aimlessly for a while. I gave them each a dollar and let them go wild in the Dollar store, and then drove to a playground and let them run around for about an hour. They had baby swings there, and Julianna loves swinging. She's such a good girl - when she wasn't swinging, she played happily on the top of the picnic table, going thru my purse. I had my niece with me, Isabella, and she and my older two bopped around the playground for a long time. After that, I packed them up and headed to my mother's house.
Sam's hair had gotten out of control long, he looked like Wolfman. So my sister cut his hair, and it was traumatic for everyone. He had a knock down dragged out screaming temper tantrum, and then ran in circles, filled with rage, around my mother's back porch after it was done. My poor mother and sister had never seen a full blown fit before and I think they were both a little horrified. Sam's a mild mannered kid, really, but when he wants to, he can throw down a fit that's unimaginable. And since I've got eight years of experience dealing with Jessie's fits, I just stay calm and ignore it as best I can. Nothing really helps to stop a fit, I've tried just about everything, so now I just let him scream it out. And on the upside, his hair looks a lot better now :-).
Jessica is outside right now, playing with the neighbor, and Sam's bopping around playing with his army guys. Poor Julianna is sleeping - a full day doesn't lead to good napping for her. So she's out cold, and I'm sad about that, as she'll be up all night now :-(
Sam's hair had gotten out of control long, he looked like Wolfman. So my sister cut his hair, and it was traumatic for everyone. He had a knock down dragged out screaming temper tantrum, and then ran in circles, filled with rage, around my mother's back porch after it was done. My poor mother and sister had never seen a full blown fit before and I think they were both a little horrified. Sam's a mild mannered kid, really, but when he wants to, he can throw down a fit that's unimaginable. And since I've got eight years of experience dealing with Jessie's fits, I just stay calm and ignore it as best I can. Nothing really helps to stop a fit, I've tried just about everything, so now I just let him scream it out. And on the upside, his hair looks a lot better now :-).
Jessica is outside right now, playing with the neighbor, and Sam's bopping around playing with his army guys. Poor Julianna is sleeping - a full day doesn't lead to good napping for her. So she's out cold, and I'm sad about that, as she'll be up all night now :-(
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Different kids, different ages, different needs
I planned on having all of my kids. Which doesn't make me better than anyone else, merely points out that the spacing between them was deliberate and well thought out. And overall, I like the three to four year gap. It gives each child a chance to really be a baby, by the time the next one was born, the kid was really transitioned well into the preschooler stage. And the nice thing now is that I have three very different kids, at very different stages in their lives.
Jessica Mary is eight years old, and about to enter third grade. She's in the throes of peer pressure, but not in the scary peer mode. She worries about not having any friends, not about her friends pressuring her to drink or have sex. Not that it's not hard, I don't mean to minimize it, but it's not scary for me yet. She's pulling away from me a little, watching television shows that are a little more grown up, and wouldn't be caught dead watching Dora. I think, for Jessica, because she and I are so very close, and so linked in so many ways, the separation between us is challenging. For both of us, really, but more so for her, I think. She's still my little girl in so many ways, still snuggles up to me at night and first thing in the morning, but more and more, I'm seeing her as her own person, dealing with feelings and emotions and challenges that I don't always understand. Which is, in and of itself, scary.
Sam is five, and about to start kindergarten. This is such a huge milestone for any kid, but for Sam, having never attended preschool, I feel like it's so much more of one. After September 4 - a big part of his day, five days a week, is going to be spent with people other than me. And I'll be honest, I'm sad and wistful and so lonely already. It's not any easier to send your second child off than it is to send your first, as much as I wished that it would be. I can't imagine him at school - can't imagine it. And honestly, can't write too much more about it without getting teary eyed - he's been at my side for the past five years, and I can't fathom what I'll do without him during the day.
Oh yeah - that's what I'll do - Miss Julianna Ruth. Julie is very much a Mommy's girl, not that she doesn't adore her daddy (because she definitely does - she's much closer to him than either of the other two were at this age), but she's very, very attached. She's my girl - and she's a part of everything that I do. Even when I'm not with her, I'm always aware that she's missing me. She's on the brink of so much - almost walking, starting to talk. Her world, in so many ways, revolves around me. It's not that I love her more than the other two, and it's not that she loves me more than they do. But right now, she seems to be at the forefront a lot, just by virtue of her age.
Jessie's world is so much more than just me. And Sam's is on the brink of opening up into this huge whole world. And Julie - so much of Julie is still me. I'm thinking today about having three very different children, and how each one requires such a different level of parenting. Jessie is so much more complicated - she doesn't need to be held and coaxed into eating but what she needs is so much more patience and understanding and reassurance. Julie's needs are so much simpler - but easier to meet, she just needs me. I don't even have to do all that much, just my presence is enough for her. Sam is still caught right in the middle - he's not old enough to be a big kid, but so much bigger than a little kid.
Jessica Mary is eight years old, and about to enter third grade. She's in the throes of peer pressure, but not in the scary peer mode. She worries about not having any friends, not about her friends pressuring her to drink or have sex. Not that it's not hard, I don't mean to minimize it, but it's not scary for me yet. She's pulling away from me a little, watching television shows that are a little more grown up, and wouldn't be caught dead watching Dora. I think, for Jessica, because she and I are so very close, and so linked in so many ways, the separation between us is challenging. For both of us, really, but more so for her, I think. She's still my little girl in so many ways, still snuggles up to me at night and first thing in the morning, but more and more, I'm seeing her as her own person, dealing with feelings and emotions and challenges that I don't always understand. Which is, in and of itself, scary.
Sam is five, and about to start kindergarten. This is such a huge milestone for any kid, but for Sam, having never attended preschool, I feel like it's so much more of one. After September 4 - a big part of his day, five days a week, is going to be spent with people other than me. And I'll be honest, I'm sad and wistful and so lonely already. It's not any easier to send your second child off than it is to send your first, as much as I wished that it would be. I can't imagine him at school - can't imagine it. And honestly, can't write too much more about it without getting teary eyed - he's been at my side for the past five years, and I can't fathom what I'll do without him during the day.
Oh yeah - that's what I'll do - Miss Julianna Ruth. Julie is very much a Mommy's girl, not that she doesn't adore her daddy (because she definitely does - she's much closer to him than either of the other two were at this age), but she's very, very attached. She's my girl - and she's a part of everything that I do. Even when I'm not with her, I'm always aware that she's missing me. She's on the brink of so much - almost walking, starting to talk. Her world, in so many ways, revolves around me. It's not that I love her more than the other two, and it's not that she loves me more than they do. But right now, she seems to be at the forefront a lot, just by virtue of her age.
Jessie's world is so much more than just me. And Sam's is on the brink of opening up into this huge whole world. And Julie - so much of Julie is still me. I'm thinking today about having three very different children, and how each one requires such a different level of parenting. Jessie is so much more complicated - she doesn't need to be held and coaxed into eating but what she needs is so much more patience and understanding and reassurance. Julie's needs are so much simpler - but easier to meet, she just needs me. I don't even have to do all that much, just my presence is enough for her. Sam is still caught right in the middle - he's not old enough to be a big kid, but so much bigger than a little kid.
Sunday, August 7, 2011
My anti-social koala boy is growing up...
We went to Canobie Lake yesterday - which is a big, old fashioned (I say old fashioned because I went there every year when I was a kid and I don't think it's changed at all) amusement park. We've been several times with the kids - and quite frankly, Sam has hated it every time we've gone. He's occasionally, borderline, sort of not been miserable, but actual enjoyment? Nope.
And I just figured it was Sam. He didn't like big crowds, he didn't like new places. But I realized yesterday that, while all of that was true when he was two and three and four, now that he's FIVE - it's a whole new world and I spent most of the day just utterly impressed at how big he's gotten. And only a tiny bit wistful, because he's getting so big so fast.
He rode EVERYTHING. Scary rides that I knew he wouldn't be able to handle, but let him go on anyway, because he begged and I believe in letting them make their own choices, when possible. He didn't cry once, he'd hop off a ride, holler "That was AWESOME!",and look for the next one. He was perfectly behaved the entire time (which was more than I can say for his sisters - one wandered off and got lost, one cried for twenty minutes on the way home because we weren't home yet, one sobbed thru the park on the way to the car because she was "dizzy sick" and her blisters hurt, and the other one is a year old and resented being put in the carriage). Sam was amazing - he was articulate, described with letter perfect accuracy where a ride was located, rode everything he wanted, rode home happily in the least favorite seat and was, in general, the best behaved child there.
My anti-social little clingy boy is growing up. And I can't believe how proud I am.
And I just figured it was Sam. He didn't like big crowds, he didn't like new places. But I realized yesterday that, while all of that was true when he was two and three and four, now that he's FIVE - it's a whole new world and I spent most of the day just utterly impressed at how big he's gotten. And only a tiny bit wistful, because he's getting so big so fast.
He rode EVERYTHING. Scary rides that I knew he wouldn't be able to handle, but let him go on anyway, because he begged and I believe in letting them make their own choices, when possible. He didn't cry once, he'd hop off a ride, holler "That was AWESOME!",and look for the next one. He was perfectly behaved the entire time (which was more than I can say for his sisters - one wandered off and got lost, one cried for twenty minutes on the way home because we weren't home yet, one sobbed thru the park on the way to the car because she was "dizzy sick" and her blisters hurt, and the other one is a year old and resented being put in the carriage). Sam was amazing - he was articulate, described with letter perfect accuracy where a ride was located, rode everything he wanted, rode home happily in the least favorite seat and was, in general, the best behaved child there.
My anti-social little clingy boy is growing up. And I can't believe how proud I am.
Saturday, August 6, 2011
Stress and frustration
I realize in the overall scheme of things, my problems aren't really that big. Everyone's healthy and happy, and we will have a roof over our heads, regardless. It's just the constant tension over WHICH roof. Do we stay here, do we move? This is what I've been doing, constantly searching for an apartment and agonizing over whether or not I need to look at all. Our landlord, while lovely, is horribly indecisive and I don't deal well with other people's indecision. I actually don't deal well with my own indecision, but someone else's is even harder. Especially because he is such a nice guy, and I don't want to hurt his feelings by screaming "I'm leaving, I don't CARE what you want to do!"
In other news - Julianna is still not walking. Going on fifteen and a half months, and still not a step taken. She is, however, getting actual callouses on the palms of her hands from constantly crawling because she's all over the place. She communicating more and more, and just recently starting standing independently on purpose (as opposed to accidentally). She's such an agreeable baby, very little irritates her, unless you try to take what she's playing with, in which case, she'll bellow furiously.
Samilicious Boy has spent most of the summer in his underwear. He'd be naked, but Julianna is a little too curious, so I insist on at least underwear. It's been a good summer for Sam, and I'm optimistic that he'll adapt well to kindergarten. Truth be told, I'm terrified of him starting school, but pretending that I'm not. He'll be fine, right?
Jessica Mary is fighting summer reading HARD. And finally, I got so irritated with her (bitterly ironic that I have to fight to get my daughter to READ), that I told her that she was cooking dinner all this week, and one of her book reports could be on recipes. She's made chocolate chip cookies, homemade spaghetti sauce and fresh chicken nuggets. I sit at the table (with a book) and am available for questions and gentle reminders (because left to her own devices, she gets distracted easily).
Canobie Lake today - very excited :-)
In other news - Julianna is still not walking. Going on fifteen and a half months, and still not a step taken. She is, however, getting actual callouses on the palms of her hands from constantly crawling because she's all over the place. She communicating more and more, and just recently starting standing independently on purpose (as opposed to accidentally). She's such an agreeable baby, very little irritates her, unless you try to take what she's playing with, in which case, she'll bellow furiously.
Samilicious Boy has spent most of the summer in his underwear. He'd be naked, but Julianna is a little too curious, so I insist on at least underwear. It's been a good summer for Sam, and I'm optimistic that he'll adapt well to kindergarten. Truth be told, I'm terrified of him starting school, but pretending that I'm not. He'll be fine, right?
Jessica Mary is fighting summer reading HARD. And finally, I got so irritated with her (bitterly ironic that I have to fight to get my daughter to READ), that I told her that she was cooking dinner all this week, and one of her book reports could be on recipes. She's made chocolate chip cookies, homemade spaghetti sauce and fresh chicken nuggets. I sit at the table (with a book) and am available for questions and gentle reminders (because left to her own devices, she gets distracted easily).
Canobie Lake today - very excited :-)
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
He's not a little baby anymore
I mean, of course he isn't. He's a five year old boy, as he reminds me several times a day. And I've got an actual baby. It's not even like he's my youngest and I can be forgiven for still thinking of him as a baby. But somehow, I still kind of did.
Sam's extremely shy in most situations, and still seems so young to me. He still sleeps with Marc or I most nights, still hides behind my legs in pretty much every social situation. He wakes up every morning and trudges into the living room and curls up in my lap. He tells me before he pees, and has to be prompted to put his underwear on, and most of the time, he puts it on backwards. Okay, I admit it, I still think of him as my little boy. I didn't realize how big he'd somehow gotten when I wasn't looking.
I went into for his five year physical this afternoon. My pediatrician (God, I love that woman) is the only person I know who actually agreed with Marc and I when we pulled him out of preschool at the beginning of last year. She said that there's a world of difference between a four year old and a five year old, and while we could have forced it, and he would have adjusted eventually, by giving him that extra year at home, it would be so much easier for him now. And he was BIG. He participated happily in the hearing and vision test (and to understand how remarkable that was - we had tried it at his last physical and he screamed thru the whole thing - forget answering questions, he was straight up horrified that a STRANGER was talking to him). He talked to the nurse, answered questions, and talked. Just like a big boy.
It was just sort of surreal. He's always been my baby - and now suddenly he's a big kid and I feel a little wistful and a little bit, just a tiny bit, sad. I'm not ready for a big kid. Not two big kids. Isn't it bad enough that I had to let Jessica grow up? I'm kidding. Kind of. But the facts are that in a month and a half, I'm going to have TWO kids in school, and I'm getting a little bit choked up just thinking about it. No Sammy next me all the time? It was so hard adjusting to Jessica in school - and I naively thought that it would be easier with the other two. But no - dramatic sigh - it's just as hard to adjust to the fact that your second child is suddenly a big boy as it was to realize that your first little baby was suddenly old enough to go out into the world without you.
I'm going to need a LOT of chocolate on the Tuesday after Labor Day. And tissues.
Sam's extremely shy in most situations, and still seems so young to me. He still sleeps with Marc or I most nights, still hides behind my legs in pretty much every social situation. He wakes up every morning and trudges into the living room and curls up in my lap. He tells me before he pees, and has to be prompted to put his underwear on, and most of the time, he puts it on backwards. Okay, I admit it, I still think of him as my little boy. I didn't realize how big he'd somehow gotten when I wasn't looking.
I went into for his five year physical this afternoon. My pediatrician (God, I love that woman) is the only person I know who actually agreed with Marc and I when we pulled him out of preschool at the beginning of last year. She said that there's a world of difference between a four year old and a five year old, and while we could have forced it, and he would have adjusted eventually, by giving him that extra year at home, it would be so much easier for him now. And he was BIG. He participated happily in the hearing and vision test (and to understand how remarkable that was - we had tried it at his last physical and he screamed thru the whole thing - forget answering questions, he was straight up horrified that a STRANGER was talking to him). He talked to the nurse, answered questions, and talked. Just like a big boy.
It was just sort of surreal. He's always been my baby - and now suddenly he's a big kid and I feel a little wistful and a little bit, just a tiny bit, sad. I'm not ready for a big kid. Not two big kids. Isn't it bad enough that I had to let Jessica grow up? I'm kidding. Kind of. But the facts are that in a month and a half, I'm going to have TWO kids in school, and I'm getting a little bit choked up just thinking about it. No Sammy next me all the time? It was so hard adjusting to Jessica in school - and I naively thought that it would be easier with the other two. But no - dramatic sigh - it's just as hard to adjust to the fact that your second child is suddenly a big boy as it was to realize that your first little baby was suddenly old enough to go out into the world without you.
I'm going to need a LOT of chocolate on the Tuesday after Labor Day. And tissues.
Thursday, July 7, 2011
Happy birthday to the sweetest five year old
If you'd asked me if I wanted to have daughters or sons ten years ago, I'd have said daughters. All the way. I come from a super female dominated family, and I'm extremely close to my own mother. I knew what to do with daughters - and wasn't sure I'd know what to do with a son. Fast forward to the day five years ago, when Marc gleefully hollered "It's a BOY!" and I held him in my arms for the first time.
I still am baffled and confused by a lot of Sam. Superheros, guns, firemen and zombies - all of these are things I've become achingly familiar with, and am stunned at how incredibly easy it is to adapt to all things boy. He's one of the loves of my life - and I can't imagine my life without my precious boy.
From the beginning, Sam has awed and amazed me with his amazing strength of will and capacity to love. His love is so pure and so sweet. He was born with separation anxiety, from the very beginning, he knew his rightful place was in my arms and he hollered and yelled anytime he wasn't there. He realized when he was about six or seven months old that he had a father, that strange pair of arms that held him were attached to a really cool guy, and just fell in love. He's had an enormous hero attachment to his daddy ever since.
Sam is shy in many ways, very reserved and would always, always rather stay home. Unless we're going to Chuck E Cheese. But trips to Grammy's, heading to his friend's house to play, out to Walmart - given the choice, he'd rather stay home and chill out. He's passionately attached to just about everything, getting rid of clothes he's outgrown is an exercise in stealth. He's smart and funny and the best big brother in the world. He's also the best little brother.
Sometimes I thought he had a playbook of how to go about being a little brother, because he so perfectly seemed to do all of the stereotypical little brother things. But he loves his big sisters, and is never happier than when they're playing with him. And Julianna simply worships him.
I'm so glad that I was wrong - that I didn't just have daughters. Because Sam has added so much joy and so much love - having a son is one of the biggest surprises in my life and I can't imagine what it would be like without him.
I love you so much Sammy. Happy, happy birthday - watching you grow up and being your mother is one of the joys that I'll never ever take for granted.
I still am baffled and confused by a lot of Sam. Superheros, guns, firemen and zombies - all of these are things I've become achingly familiar with, and am stunned at how incredibly easy it is to adapt to all things boy. He's one of the loves of my life - and I can't imagine my life without my precious boy.
From the beginning, Sam has awed and amazed me with his amazing strength of will and capacity to love. His love is so pure and so sweet. He was born with separation anxiety, from the very beginning, he knew his rightful place was in my arms and he hollered and yelled anytime he wasn't there. He realized when he was about six or seven months old that he had a father, that strange pair of arms that held him were attached to a really cool guy, and just fell in love. He's had an enormous hero attachment to his daddy ever since.
Sam is shy in many ways, very reserved and would always, always rather stay home. Unless we're going to Chuck E Cheese. But trips to Grammy's, heading to his friend's house to play, out to Walmart - given the choice, he'd rather stay home and chill out. He's passionately attached to just about everything, getting rid of clothes he's outgrown is an exercise in stealth. He's smart and funny and the best big brother in the world. He's also the best little brother.
Sometimes I thought he had a playbook of how to go about being a little brother, because he so perfectly seemed to do all of the stereotypical little brother things. But he loves his big sisters, and is never happier than when they're playing with him. And Julianna simply worships him.
I'm so glad that I was wrong - that I didn't just have daughters. Because Sam has added so much joy and so much love - having a son is one of the biggest surprises in my life and I can't imagine what it would be like without him.
I love you so much Sammy. Happy, happy birthday - watching you grow up and being your mother is one of the joys that I'll never ever take for granted.
Friday, January 4, 2008
how incredibly exciting
I'm so excited - got me my very own blog. I've been doing daily e-mails for everyone, but now I can just refer people to the blog :-). Spent all day making shabbat dinner, and am now no longer in the mood to celebrate. I did manage to talk Jess into cleaning up her bedroom by convincing her that it had to be pretty for shabbat, and I have lulled Sam into quiet by putting on Little Einsteins. He's into the music. He's also discovered how much fun it is to play with the controls for the stove, hence, the quarantine in the living room.
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