Done with Kindy.

Isn't the above photo hilarious? Kids are going every which way, you can almost see them moving like they probably do nonstop. Poor teacher... I don't envy her job! 

Ruby finished kindergarten. I think I was in denial the whole year that she was even in school. She would come home and in my eyes, she's still a calm, artsy little 3 year old practicing her letters. Seriously? First grade? Whatever, it's probably not happening. Heard time's going to stop soon, so I'm just waiting...

First Day, Rube.

Dear Ruby,

Hhhhhhhhh...  

You take me to the center of the earth and back again. My chest rises and falls with life's rhythm and I can see you, dancing with your heart pumping, illustrating mermaid booklets, brushing your teeth with your skinny spare arm pumping like a chicken wing.

You were incredibly excited and confident and 100% ready. I made it about a half hour after drop off before I lost it. Ruby, with your heart open like a barn door, off to school on your first day.

I checked in on you tonight. You had just fallen asleep. You had taken your pajamas off and were double-wrapped in your comforter, stripped down to your underwear, sweating thickly. Your hair stuck to your neck. I straightened you out and gave your pores some space to breathe.

I came here and sat down and saw these photos and cried. A mama has never loved a daughter like you. You are a surprise, a shock, some unexpected cash found in my pocket.

I can't stop this filmstrip flashing through my head of times to come when you'll be away for a lot longer. But for now, I'll relax. It's only kindergarten.

Be true.

xoxoxoxoxo times a thousand.

Progress.

Alphabet parade, May 29.



She doesn't like peanut butter and jelly. Just bread. Last night I put some bread in a ziplock bag and nestled it down by the juice box and yogurt. I did this with a skip and a hum. I filled her water bottle with a smirk and noticed the magic in the air, because, it's Grace's last week of school. No more painful ponytails at 7:25 a.m. She can let her hair down, eat crackers on the couch 'til 10, and forget the influence of all those other kids for the entire summer.

We are all so excited.

This year began with some very hard feelings. If you remember, I had just had Lillie and was having a hard time letting my oldest go to school all day. My feelings were fierce, and only with time have they subsided. In their replacement are feelings of confidence, in myself and her. More confidence in our relationship. It's a different one now, mixed with the outside world. We took her and I, what we used to be, added some kindergarten experience, mixed us up, and became what we are on this first day of June, 2009. A mixed up jumble of feelings that add up to progress and steps forward. We get about 90 days until first grade. I hope heaven will prepare me.

Kindergarten Field Trip.

To the Polk County Landfill. A.K.A. 'The Dump'. She was thrilled to ride the bus, help me with Lill and generally just open her mouth, stick her teeth out, and smile! I am so glad I trashed my excuses and went with her.

At one point we looked over at Nicholas (her boyfriend earlier this year) and he was pouting in his seat. She begged me to let her go sit by him, see what was the matter. I flat out refused. Sorry but the last thing on this earth I need is for my little girl to go help the sulking six-year-old boy that just wants girl attention. Uh UHH. Go call the whine patrol.

Spring Break, Day 1

This shot wraps up who she is and packages it neatly. I will narrate. Her neck is slightly strained, so that her smile might reach the highest height possible. Her bottom hand is in a cupping shape. It wants to be neat and tidy, and it is. She is showing her teeth, but only because her parents like it. If it was up to her, she would cover them up like she does when she's nervous. Her favorite shirt, check, her favorite jeans, check. Which, by the tell-tale white sock showing are too short for her after only owning them for a month. And lastly, her sketchers. Never has a girl loved a name brand as much as my Gracie loves and talks about her sketchers.

What I see is milky white skin, smiling eyes, that thick black hair that silences me and a soul that is doing somersaults in that small body of hers. She writes loves notes to James R., envelopes them, takes them with her to school and as Daddy is dropping her off, gets nervous and stashes them in the glove compartment. She's too scared to ask the lunch lady to help her open her fruit cup, so she just doesn't eat it. She takes her pony tail out every single day and gives the hair elastic to Kelsey.

Today we took a family walk after dinner. We went over to the bridge that overlooks a lake. Grace ran far ahead and stood still suddenly, the wind blowing her hair. Her lips stuck out and her hands clutched the book that she just couldn't leave at home and I stopped and stared. And closed my eyes for a moment. I will never forget how she looked then. Absolutely the most beautiful living thing.

Just a Monday.

I helped in Grace's class today. I read a few books to 20 kids. Their eyes absorbed everything they saw, the Bernstain Bears, my facial expression and the way my voice sounded. After that, they went to do some testing including tying shoes, relay races and dexterity exercises. Before I came, they were coloring a booklet about continents. Continents?! I swear, school has gotten much harder since my time. I love to see Grace in action, fussing with this person and that person and so-and-so and then perching on my lap for the last few minutes. I love her and her thick grown-up black hair splaying down her shoulders and back.

I left there and found myself walking into the school parking lot deep in thought. Lillie was there in the stroller right in front of me, only 6 months into her busy little life. Her thumb was moving back and forth, back and forth, against the grooved nylon strap of the seat belt, her eyes staring straight forward. As she memorized the feeling of nylon, its rough texture and edges, she breathed in the breeze as it pushed its way up her nose and watched the leaves moving across the cement.

She is the next big thing. She will move on from feeling straps and breathing wind without a conscious thought. She'll move onto crawling and walking and picking up cheerios with her thumb and forefinger. Pretty soon she'll be worried about why Molly wears oil in her hair and what her teacher's first name is. Today I felt like I was truly in the middle of a cycle. Right smack in the middle. I guess my own mother probably realized this along the line. And now it's hit me. In my 29th year. My place in this huge moving circle. Helping the little ones get to where they're going and stunned at the truth that they'll get there no matter what.

Hi Ho, Hi Ho.

How do I let this chunk of fluffy beauty go out into the world? HOW? I am absolutely not ready for her to go back to the gritty, stringent kindergarten classroom, sweaty playground and anonymous cafeteria. The school schedule causes us to plunge back into those busy afternoons when she arrives home with murder on the brain and disrupts the peace of our home with the angst, jealousy and unrest that comes from being social and well behaved all day. I'm not ready for it. I want to keep her home, keep the comings and goings away and just listen to her and her sister's voice float through the air at lunch time while my heart beats calmly behind our locked front door.

What Rules?

Finally I printed some photos! Putting them up took me 'til 1a.m. Then Lillie chose last night to give me the worst version of hell... which was waking up every half hour to complain about certain things. She doesn't speak English yet, so it gets a bit confusing about what she actually NEEDS. I pick up her warm swaddled body, put her against me and feed her every last drop of milk that I have, tip my head back, and think about twenty years from now. How much free time I'll have, how much I'll miss this... etc.

I kept Grace home from school today. She's been bringing home notes from her teacher that say things like, "off task and not following directions", and "very talkative today!" with a frowny face. Here's my note to the rest of the world: "Grace needs a break from the rigors of Kindergarten life. That, and I'm going to miss her when I'm gone next week, so take that and write it down on a sticky note" (ten frowny faces). Of course, Grace is the master mind behind most messes, so in about five minutes, this happened:


I'm pretty sure they were playing "Bolt" and apparently when Ruby is "Bolt", she needs to eat cheerios, on the floor, with water... and syrup. And the syrup needs to be measured with measuring spoons. I would like to point out that the syrup bottle was FULL AND UNOPENED before she started. Do take note. All this while I had casual phone conversation with a friend. And I haven't even checked the bathroom yet.

Here she is getting ready to wrap the rest of the stuffed animals to put under the tree. Today, no uniform, no school rules, no homework, just a girl dressed in five different patterns and her "dancing shoes with heart socks". Ahh. Breath. Sigh. Love.

The Dreaded Night.

Last night was The Dreaded Night. I knew this time would come, I didn't know when, or why, but it had to. It was inevitable. I knew it was The Dreaded Night the moment Grace announced from the back of the car that "Nicholas kissed me!". Fear rose in my stomach and sent an itch over my entire body. It was just the thing that made me realize tonight we would have to have The Dreaded Talk.

Maybe I'm too reactive or a little overzealous, but I sat her down and thought it was important to start with the real names of girl and boy anatomy. Just in case they used those names at school or anywhere else. We got to the correct name of the girl's anatomy and she did mention that it sounded like a Spanish word from China, and I had to agree with her there. I suppressed a giggle and moved on (see how mature I am?). What's an appropriate kiss was demonstrated as well as an appropriate hug. We talked about many other things that are sensitive and important. Of course, I didn't explain The Big One, but she's a little young for that. I started out simple.

After contemplation, I think it was the perfect age to start. She wasn't really that embarrassed to say or hear anything, but smart enough to realize these things are private and important. I told her what to tell boys that want to kiss or show or hug too much: "Back off Buddy!" We pinky-promised full disclosure with only each other. It went really well for our first installment. I am very afraid of what my future holds as a mother of daughters, all with very kissable lips (trust me, I know). What in this world am I going to do? How will my heart, with it's thin walls and destructible pulsing purpleness hold up with all this free Kindergarten Love? Pray for me, do pray for me.

Kindergarten Drama

"I love you and you are the best and you are a cute girl". Eloquent words by Grace's most pursuant admirer, Nicholas The Kindergartner. I don't know how I feel about this kid. He's a little scraggly guy, about a foot shorter than her. He's got blonde hair (oh the horror!) and blue eyes. I've got nothing against blondes, but if there is anyone who will look good at the elbow of a tall, dark and handsome man it is her with her thick black hair and snowy white skin (not that I'm biased).

I have heard conflicting chatter about this man, Nicholas. First he's great, he's wonderful, he's complimentary. Then he calls her a few names and hides and says he will not, under any circumstances, be part of the girl's club anymore. Uh, wha? Why was he part of the girl's club again, remind me? Grace seems generally uneffected by his inconsistencies and as of now, he's still writing her love notes. Looks like Grace's beauty and magnetism prevails! He just can't stay away long. You go, little girl.

At Home Today.

After Jake spent thirty minutes showing Grace how to smile with her teeth, she smiled like this. And the afternoon of picture day, she came home and promptly announced she smiled with her teeth showing, just like he asked! Liar. If she only knew how beautiful she really was! She was sick last night, throwing up, so I kept her home today. I think if she had the sniffles I would have kept her home as well, I miss her. If I was responsible enough, I would do home school. Right now she and Dubes are wandering around with stuffed animals tucked in dish towels. Because that's what happens in their normal world. That's what would probably happen if I did home school. Possible agenda: imaginative play, breakfast, more play, beach, possible singing of the ABC's on the way home, dress up and dance in the living room until dinner. Ya... see what I mean?

We Had a Lovely Time.

I definitely got my work out. I lost the battle of "who would take Grace to Skate Night" (read: who wants to be repeatedly kicked in the shins with very heavy skates?). That girl looks little, but my back feels like it got punched and smashed with a baseball bat while straining all of my muscles too far to the right. It would be better if she actually tried to learn how to roller skate while they blasted ABBA songs and flared disco lights. But she was constantly searching for friends, any friends, with whom she might shoot a glance, "Your mom brought you to skate night too? Man, kindergarten is such a drag." And another pleasantry that I became painfully aware of: it's popular to fall down.

I reminded her to 'focus' and 'be steady' but that really didn't help since her feet are the size of life rafts. (Gracie, you get them from me and I sincerely apologize). So while I instructed her on how to steer her roller skates out of death's tight grip, her eyes darted up and away from me, into the dark, searching for her precious classmates that said they would come. All I saw were weary and confused parents, their brittle expressions ready to crumble if heaven forbid, their child fell down ONE MORE TIME. I felt the same way.

All I want to know is how she held it together falling on that little tail bone a thousand times? Because minutes before we left for the skating rink she was on the ground screaming for the world to end because of a tiny scrape on her knee. It's all about the audience.

Spyin' On Her.

I went to Gracie's school for 'Garden Day'. I was supposed to help the kids plant flowers in their little square but instead I did what any other mother would do: I followed Gracie around school and took like a thousand photos. I mean my kindergartner, in her element?? Does it get any better than this?
Her friend earned a no uniform day... usually they're all dressed like Grace. Most beautiful face ever.

There are some things that are fantastic. Like the new Audi A4, cobb salad from Cheesecake Factory, grand pianos, a full body massage and a long night's rest. But better, by far, than any of those things is watching Grace skip away from my arms to dance by herself in the middle of the playground. My head almost exploded.

His Name is Nicholas.

The note had a picture of the two of them and their teacher under a big shiny sun and some grass all around. She wrote their names together, along with the teacher's name. I had to steal a glance at it as she stuffed it in the envelope as fast as she could.

I casually asked her about it today. Did she give him the note? Yes. But he didn't take it. She forgave him because sometimes, "Nicholas doesn't like to take notes when he doesn't know what it's for". She seemed relaxed and confident still, and continued on with the usual, "Nicholas is so cute. He sure was friendly today to everyone. He talks funny, says his s's funny." A man with a lisp? Perfect! That's my girl, go for the personality!

She's old enough to like a little boy, but still young enough to throw occasional tantrums, write her name on my closet door and suck her thumb. I guess she's been fighting all along for legitimacy and esteem. I see her grown up aspects and I match them up with the toddler still in her and just chuckle to myself. I never knew what perspective parents had!

Apparently they hold hands and he holds other girls' hands, too (Uh, wha??). I treat this matter very delicately as not to disturb our communication balance. I listen and "ooh" and "ahh". Jake mostly stuffs his fists into his pocket, listens to her intently, and pretends he doesn't want to charge into the school and give this little kid a once-over. We've got a long road ahead, lover. Pace yourself.

Peer Pressure

So, Grace, how was school?
I can't remember...
Well what did you do?
Uh.....
Did you play on the playground?
I have a friend, her name is Rachel. Rachel Brown.
Is she nice?
Ya...
Does she bring her lunch too? Did you eat it together?
Ya...
What does she look like?
She has brown hair, brown eyes, brown eyebrows... has a body. Like me.
Oh ya, she sounds nice! What else?
She has hair, on her head... I mean, all around her head, like Ruby.
Oh, she has bangs?
Ya, I REALLY want that hair on the front, like bangs. Can I have them?

I can't resist the way she walks when she thinks she looks pretty. It's sensational.

Long Time Comin'.

I have a confession to make, Graciegirl. I kept you out of preschool longer than most people. I kept you out of swimming lessons, soccer practice, and gymnastics. I thought that if I kept your brain all to myself that you would be better off, and that I would be, too. I thought that if I could weather the tantrums, enjoy the happy times, break up fights with your sister, and make you peanut butter and jelly every day, my influence would reign supreme in your mind. That you would feel balanced and complete knowing only our world. The world with Mom, Ruby and most recently, Lillie.
But I know now that nothing I could do would keep you from this moment. This moment where your confidence and your passion for people and everything social would finally become a lovely, progressive, sequential blend. You arrived at this intersection today with the bravery and solidarity that only my 5-year-old could possess. And you hardly glanced behind. If you had, you would have found me, forcing a smile in place of a few years' worth of love and emotions. You were quiet, and you held my hand. We walked slowly toward the entrance together. I pushed Lillie's stroller over the bumpy sidewalk, looked down at your hand in mine and considered it a great gift. It was a gift to be present when you came into our world, it's a gift to know you better than almost anyone else, and it's a gift to know that no matter where you go, your heart and soul belong to me.

Around These Parts, We're More Mature.

I took this three days ago, people. That means today she looks another 3 days past age 17. I mean, today is just a day at the end of July. Just a day that doesn't mean much, except today she seems older to me. Maybe all my hard work paid off, maybe it was all the healthy food I made her eat, maybe it was just the natural occurrence of things.

But the truth is, and must be, that it's not me that is responsible for this wonderful person she has become. It's all her. Inside the little bug of a baby she used to be, was this beautiful, leafy, bloomy thing just waiting to show me what it means to be the mother of a 5 year old. She had an extra red leather pouch full of pure GOODNESS inside her heart that I didn't know about. How could that be?

A few weeks of preschool has helped, and now she writes all the time, on everything, with every single pen. Did I mention she writes ALL THE TIME? Consequently, keeping to the theme of change, she changed Ruby back to no "E" on the end of her name and changed the spelling of her own name to "GRASE". Mmm Hm. She helps me with everything. Even when I don't want it (I don't usually). Her fits shortened a little each day, each week, until her emotions have became somewhat under control for the first time in her life. And it still surprises me every single time she says, "ok" instead of throwing me one.

She starts kindergarten in a few weeks. I have to say I am more prepared than I was back in May. It might be Lillie's arrival, maybe it's the fact that Ruby is acting completely insane, maybe it's because the universe shifted somehow and is whispering to me that it will be okay. But when she brought her little papers home each day from preschool, she would have a thousand index cards with words and pictures written on them. On at least half of them she wrote, "Momee" or "Dadee Smylie". It really is a small consolation, but if I worried that she didn't think about me while she was at school? She does.

Moving On and Growing Up

PLEASE LET IT BE OVER... I'm just sending that out into the nothingness, maybe this time around 35 weeks of pregnancy will be enough. But who am I kidding? I should just fall in line behind all the other weighty pregnant women of this world and wait. I think the last four weeks of pregnancy is a daunting journey of self-discovery. It's a mental and physical pain that only I can endure. Not even my husband's attempts at being sympathetic will really relate to the mountain that I am about to climb. And you would think that after you have a baby you are the most sympathetic to that last part of pregnancy, but those women have a baby bouncing around in their lap, and they're distracted. And God helps them forget the pain quickly so they'll somehow do it all over again.

On the lighter side, Miss Thaing #3 is growing and measuring right on. She'll be another 8.5-pounder. I am so excited to see, kiss, meet, greet, hear and cuddle her. Before I know it she'll be 1. Or I'll be attending her Kindergarten Orientation. Like I did today for Grace.

We get there. She's nervous. She has to go to the Science Discovery Room for activities while Dad and I listen to the principal talk and sign some forms for about an hour. She gets whisked away by a teacher who doesn't notice that Grace's bottom lip is tucked so far into her mouth that I think it's going to get bitten off. Her classic nervous face. I watch her walk down the hall a bit, only to see her feet skip once--the excitement just kicking in-- before she enters the classroom where all the other pre-kindergartners are.

They say she needs snack and lunch every day. She has to wear a uniform with plain white socks and has P.E. for 45 minutes a day. She has to be there from 7:50-2:30 and she can't be late. She needs to read a lot every night and she will have homework. When we pick her up after the school tour and orientation, she tells me that "One girl had nice hair" and that she "Played duck, duck, goose and picked a boy named D." and "Isn't that a funny name for a kid?" and "School is so, so, so fun!" She must have read something somewhere like, Phrases to Say to Put Your Mother's Mind at Ease Regarding the First Day of School. It helped. And all the Kindergarten teachers are really nice ladies who have taught there for years. And I'm taking deep breaths and being very, very calm. On the way home, she is playing with her balloon animal. One of the ears pops and it hurts her tooth and scares her, and she breaks out in a high-pitched, pitiful cry with huge tears streaming down her freckly cheeks. And I calm down even more because in the comfort of the family car, buckled into her booster, with her mom driving, she is still a baby. Phew.

Changes

For those of you who have children who have been in school, gone to high school, gone to college and beyond, forgive my faint heart, but I have a problem. I can't seem to let go. Grace hasn't gone to preschool for many reasons, the excuses including: she plays enough with kids during the week to save myself 100 bucks a month sending her to preschool, I didn't go to preschool, I am teaching her bit by bit at home, and she will be going to school straight through for about 13 years, so I thought I'd give her as much time off as I can before that starts. But the real reason is very hard to articulate. It has something to do with an invisible umbilical cord, and a fear of her being influenced strongly by people other than me. The explanation also includes things like, the appreciation I have for her shiny black hair and the way she fights for order in every situation, her plump lips when they set in frustration, and the way I UNDERSTAND all those things without explanation. There's a fear that something in her will be stifled by someone calling her a mean name or telling her she's not good at something. This sounds ridiculous, but I know no other way to explain it.

So this year, Grace is going into Kindergarten. This strikes fear and panic in my heart. What if no one cares about her? What she gets lost on the way to the girl's bathroom and goes missing? What if the other kids are mean to her? What if she needs to talk to me and can't? What will happen during that long day that she will forget to tell me and will never be remembered? What if she gets embarrassed and has to go in the corner to have a little cry? Who will comfort her and tell her that everything's alright?

I went to Kindergarten and fell in love. With two boys. The three of us would play duck, duck, goose together and one of them even held my freckly little Sarah Jean Medley hand. Now that is a big step and my mother didn't know, or at least I don't think she knew about it. I want to KNOW about it. The ups and downs.

It's strange feeling vulnerable again. I felt this way when I brought her home from the hospital. What if she gets a fever or rash or a cold? What will I do then? What if she stops eating? Or stops breathing? What if I wake up and she's gone? All these questions were quickly answered and there was little thought that in five years I would be worried about much bigger things. Her little brain and her little heart, so untouched by the cruel outside world. What she knows now is that her parents are usually the bomb, that her grandparents adore her as well as her aunts and uncles, and that swimming and milkshakes constitute the past month and a half of our life.

But she can't stay in that world forever, I know that to be true. If she did, she'd never influence this massive population for the better. And that's why I'm raising my girls the best that I can-- so they can make the world better. I know she will thrive in school and really and truly love it, I just hope I can survive it all.