Hmmm

Today I got up in the morning, took Daisy to school, went to a Pilates class, came home, prepared for teaching and showered, drove to school, walked a mile to my office hours and class (this involved climbing to the top floor of the building on Lone Mountain), held office hours and class, conferenced with students after class, walked a mile back to my car, drove to the gym, did an intensive cardio thing followed by weightlifting, and went home.

I was feeling great-- like, on drugs great. But suddenly, I feel tired.

Dialogues with Daisy

Daisy: I made a valentine for Nathaniel today. I think it made him VERY happy.

Me: How nice! Did he also make one for you?

Daisy: In a word, no.

***********
Also today, Daisy asked me if she could check my mouth. Why? "Because once, Marcella's mother grew FANGS and the dentist had to pull them out!" And, "Marcella is NOT pulling my leg."

Marcella also told Daisy she once drank a cup of blood and liked it.

Dream

Last night I dreamed that Mark suggested, as a money-saving measure, that we should sneak into people's houses and steal their partially used bars of soap. You know, the little slivers that most people throw away prior to opening a fresh bar. Mark felt this was pretty wasteful and that we could subsist for years on these soap slivers and hence save money on the purchase of soap. In the dream we lived in the Appalachians and we were wandering around peering into the ramshackle homes of very wild-looking, hillybillyish men, and Mark would point out their used soap and suggest stealing it.

The other thing I remember is the very rude thing I said to him in response to his suggestion: "Do you want to hear first why that's stupid, or first why it's crazy?"

We HAD been talking about the need to save money that evening.....

Bake Pops

Daisy's new obsession-- cake balls on a stick. We made these together.

Father-daughter collaboration

Happy Thanksgiving

Daisy loves kindergarten

I love our new school so far. It is almost unbelieveble how smoothly the transition went. Daisy seemed happy to go from the very beginning, and it's only gotten better. Now she tells us, "I am used to Kittredge!" with a tone of happy triumph in her voice, and it's been no time at all. She says "I love school" frequently, describes having friends, and seems totally comfortable and at home there. She even seems to enjoy the (very brief amount of) homework.

She comes home from school volunteering hefty amounts of information about what she did all day. She seems truly excited about the content she's learning. For weeks she told us all about matter--solids, liquids, and gases!--and now that they're doing a Social Studies unit, she tells us all about the Inuit, and in some vivid detail. She proudly announced today that she has been appointed the class "historian."

We (the adults) haven't made friends yet, but I am trying not to be impatient and know that it will happen. It may have been easier at preschool because I was volunteering all the time. I will try to find a good day to volunteer at Daisy's kindergarten, I think.

Conversations with Daisy

Daisy: Mama, want to hear me use "execute" in a sentence? "I execute my donut. I execute my grandma."

Me: Uhhh...ummmm...

Daisy: It's a song! "I execute my donut. I execute my grandma. I execute everybody. I execute my mom and dad."

Mark (cryptically): It's not always good to use the word "execute."

Daisy: I'm using it in a good way.

Mark: It's not a good word to use about *people*.

Daisy: But it's a song.

Mark: That's what all the violent media moguls say!

Checking in

Daisy has named two of her headbands. Their names are "Flowersworth" and "Wacky Rose." She says things like, "I feel like wearing Wacky Rose today" and "I haven't worn Flowersworth to kindergarten yet." I find this cute.

Things have been continuing to go well for Daisy at kindergarten, and I find that the problem, if anything, is me. I have a hard time not worrying. I think pointless thoughts, like, "Maybe she should have spent another year in preschool"--not because she's not mentally ready for kindergarten, but I worry about emotional readiness. I took her out of her familiar, safe, happy place, where she had a close friend she looked forward to seeing every day, and I've put her somewhere totally new. There is only one other girl in her kindergarten class, and luckily, they seem to like each other. And there are first-grade girls who are in the same room. I don't mean to say that she couldn't be friends with boys--she has friends who are boys--but I've noticed that same-sex bonding seems important at this age. (Ha, that reminds me: when I walked Daisy through the door this morning, one of the first-grade girls exclaimed, "Oh good, there's another girl here now!" The room really does seem to have a lot more boys in it.)

Daisy seems fine, and I don't even exactly know what my problem is. It's not the school, as I remain convinced it was a great choice for my daughter: small, cozy and nurturing, yet characterized by stimulating academics. Boy, that's one thing about Daisy--she is intellectually active. Cognitively speaking, I think she was more than ready for kindergarten. She is coming home full of details about what she learned at school. Last night she sang us a "liquids, solids, and gases" song at dinner and told us all about "molecules." She is learning Spanish and seems to love the acting class they do. She looks forward to doing her homework at night! And her astronomy questions have officially transcended my ability to answer them. She asked me a million questions about the setting of the sun last night, as we drove past the ocean and saw it sinking. I took a stab at it, babbling something about the rotation of the earth, but, yeah, I'm going to have to do research now in order to answer her questions adequately.

So, yeah, the problem is me. I guess I have to face the fact that transitions are hard for me. I miss her preschool. I miss the people, mainly. I miss the feeling of belonging somewhere. I knew it would be this way. When we started preschool, I felt similarly lonely. It takes a while to fit in somewhere, to develop relationships and an identity that means something in the new context. Here I am, immersed in change. I gave up my MFT program and went back to teaching after two years, another big transition. I am finally at a point where I can feel a little sad about quitting the MFT program; for months I couldn't feel anything but relief. I still think it was the right decision, but it's good to be able to feel some sadness about it, now that the anger (at how my traineeship agency treated us) and relief have dissipated.

So far, so good

Daisy has been in kindergarten for two days and so far, everything is going well and we are all feeling very positively about her school. Daisy was cheerful when we picked her up today and informed us, "School is very exciting" and "you picked the perfect school for me." She also said, "I am meeting lots of new friends." I know... it sounds like she read the textbook on what parents want to hear from their new kindergartener. But it seems sincere. She is enthusiastic about her teacher, about the principal, and about several new kids she's met. She was very excited about her Spanish classes, which didn't surprise us, and loved her art class but said it didn't last long enough. So far, so good!

I am bracing myself for her maybe having some hard days next week, when the novelty of the experience wears off. This is what happened with preschool; she made it through the first three or four days with total stoicism but broke down at the end of the week. I think she was trying so hard to hold all her feelings together. She is such a grownup in certain ways! For example, she said to me yesterday, regarding a potential night of camping with her friend Henry in his yard (which would be her first sleepover at a friend's house), "If I have a hard time, I will try to comfort myself." Such coping!

But there's something about this school that just feels right. It's so small and cozy, so personable. I feel really good about leaving her there. It means the world to me to know she's going to be "known," her thoughts and feelings acknowledged and recognized by the people there. I just don't doubt that. Emotionally, she is in good hands. And academically and artistically, I can see there's going to be a lot of stimulating stuff for our inquisitive daughter. She comes home each day with a folder showing what she's worked on, and drawings. There is a communication sheet to be passed back and forth between the teacher and us--it comes home in the folder every day. We can write notes to the teacher and slip them in the folder, and she will respond or write notes to us.

We took Daisy to have her TB test checked at Kaiser after school today and Daisy told the nurse, very importantly, "I am in NORMAL school now." The nurse asked, "As opposed to abnormal school?" But I think this is Daisy's way of saying she is no longer in "pre" school. She seemed so happy. I brought myself to tears today thinking about how much better her kindergarten experience seems to be going than mine did when I was her age. I had a mean teacher who didn't like me because I was already reading and misinterpreted my painful shyness as some kind of aloofness or standoffishness. I was unhappy. I wanted my daughter to have a different experience, and I think she will.

She also told the nurse, again with great importance, that she knows a seventh grader at the school and he greeted her outside the school. One of her preschool teachers, Cheryl, has a son who goes to the same school, and he said the sweetest hello to Daisy today. You can imagine what prestige goes to a kindergartener who is greeted by name by a 7th grader! The nurse told Daisy, "I would be thrilled if a 7th grader talked to me, too, even at my age." (This is the same nurse who gave Daisy FIVE injections on Tuesday to get her medical record up to speed for kindergarten, and so she knows what a stoic Daisy is; Daisy did not shed one tear.)

If I had any doubts about her readiness, I am not having them now. I am a bit curious if she's the very youngest person in the school--something tells me she is. But mentally and emotionally, she seems right up to speed so far. I hope they love her! Just like every parent-- I hope they love her.

Daisy's first day of kindergarten

Daisy was excited this morning to start kindergarten. We picked a favorite dress to wear and Daisy insisted on wearing her garish pink belt around her waist, a look I really wish she would move beyond--but it was her first day of school and she could wear whatever she wanted, of course! She told me she had had a happy dream about starting, and when I pulled up outside the school, she said, "This is just the way it was in my dream!" There were balloons tied up outside the school ("it is a celebration," Daisy said) and the very warm and kind principal, Mr. L., standing outside to welcome the kids. I took Daisy into the kindergarten room and a nice mom, the president of the parents' association, picked up on our newness and confusion and helped us find Daisy's cubby, where she keeps her lunch, and her hook, where she hangs her backpack and coat. Maybe it sounds silly, but it made me feel good that she had her own designated cubby and hook with her name on them.

I was determined to be positive and not shed tears myself, but the truth is that I started tearing up the minute I saw the balloons and Mr. L outside the school. I am proud to say the tears did not come out until after I had left Daisy! But it became especially hard when I noticed she was doing this thing where she rubs her eyes; I know it's because her eyes are becoming teary, but she denies it. I asked her if she was feeling nervous and she said firmly, "No, I am not nervous! I am excited."

Right at the perfect moment, Mr. L came in the room and talked to the kids, and then Daisy's wonderful new teacher, Ms. Pon-Barry, said she was going to read a book to all the kids. At that point parents were asked to leave and go in the back courtyard, where there was coffee. I had told Daisy I'd be right outside, and I think that was a comfort. When I left her, she was looking fine, no tears. The only thing, and it's something that always gets me about her, is that she went up to the front of the circle but then faltered and hesitated and let other kids kind of inadvertently push her to the back. I had to tell her, "Go ahead and sit down!" She can be so uncertain about claiming her space, and one thing I noticed is that she was one of the smallest, youngest kids and, for some reason, there seemed to be a lot more boys than girls.

I went out in the courtyard for the coffee, leaving Daisy looking fine, and at that point the tears came out a little bit. What got to me was watching Daisy be so brave and try to be so grown-up. But it wasn't about feeling anything negative, feeling like she wasn't going to be okay or anything like that. On the contrary, I left feeling great about the school. It really seems to embody its slogan, emphasizing a "warm and nurturing environment" for kids.

I talked mainly with another mom whose son was starting today, and she also teared up a bit. She was very nice and it occurred to me, though it's obvious, that the school is going to be full of other parents who value the same kinds of things I do (a small, warm, cozy, nurturing environment for their kids). Her son was 6 starting kindergarten, and it reinforced the sense I'd had from looking at the kids that Daisy is one of the youngest kindergarteners. We'll have to see how that goes. Certainly I believe she is intellectually ready for kindergarten, but since she's already somewhat delayed physically for her age, I'm a bit concerned that she'll be at a pretty massive disadvantage physically, given that she may be the youngest kid on top of it all.

But I left with a very positive, happy feeling, knowing I was leaving Daisy in great hands. Oh, and this is very cool: they offered us free extended care after school, which goes till 6 pm, and it can be on a spontaneous basis. We hadn't signed up for it, because we want to give Daisy a chance to adjust to school and we're not sure how much we may need it, but Mr. L said we could use it whenever we wanted and that they were flexible about how much notice we gave. It's such an easygoing, friendly atmosphere at this school. I am optimistic!

I almost forgot: I saw Daisy a couple more times before I left, because I went upstairs to the office to turn in Daisy's vaccination papers and ask a few logistical questions. Ms. Pon-Barry was giving the new kids a tour of the school, so I saw all the kids file by and poke their heads into different classrooms. Daisy looked totally fine, if extremely wide-eyed. She smiled at me but didn't run over for hugs or anything like that. She stayed with her group and was looking quite grown up.