Delaney graduates from Kindergarten next month.
I cried when I saw this picture.
Lessons Learned During Soccer
September 21, 2009 By 2 Comments
I think it is my job to learn and evolve as a person, especially as a parent. I am supposed to be a role-model. If that means I learn a new version of patience, or keep my mouth shut when I am dying to yell, so be it.
Saturday’s Kindergarten soccer game was especially instructional.
I won’t bore you with the whole story but suffice it to say, I needed to CALM DOWN before I wrote.
Delaney has been playing for a few weeks now. She has pierced ears, as do a number of the girls on her team. The rule has always been that the girls could play with bandaids over their earrings. Apparently the rules changed.
But instead of the Ref (who was, at BEST 21 years old) explaining the situation to the coaches, I heard phrases like:
“Well THEN THEY CAN’T PLAY!”
“Say another word to me and you’re going home!” and
“Just shut your mouth!” (This last one was in response to, “Hey man, I’m just trying to ask you a question.”)
Next thing I know, Delaney and another little girl are coming across the field in tears.
If you are like me, your gut says, “NO ONE MAKES MY LITTLE GIRL CRY.”
Lesson # 1: Take a deep breath and wait a minute
A few parents got involved. The ref’s responses to them included, “You don’t talk to me OLD MAN.” and “Maybe if you had a little more common sense you wouldn’t have gotten your kindergartner’s ears pierced.”
Lesson #2: It is good for me to hold my tongue.
If that snotty little thing had criticized my parenting AFTER making my daughter cry, I might have lost my mind. Fortunately, I was smart enough (this time) to stay back.
Lesson #3 Leave it up to the experts (in this case, the coaches) to handle the situation.
I am confident this situation won’t end here – our coaches were so disappointed with the entire situation. This Ref has no place in our soccer system. He was disrespectful and downright rude. And sadly, initial contact with his boss was fruitless.
Lesson #4 Sometimes holding your tongue makes the greatest impact.
If the Ref had been kind from the beginning, the situation never would have escalated. But now you have a whole group of parents wanting a change.
Parenting is hard, but at least I am learning.
The School Bus and the Missing Kindergartner
August 20, 2009 By 6 Comments
Let’s be clear on something. If you lose my child on the first day of kindergarten – or EVER for that matter – I will lose my mind.
Fortunately, my friend is kinder and gentler than I am.
When she went to pick up her 5 year old from kindergarten today – she waited and waited outside the classroom – until finally being told all of the children were gone. And yet?? Her little one? No where to be found. Turns out she was put on a school bus. To no where.
She was told to ‘hurry home to meet her child’ – but the problem: there are no buses going to her house or even neighborhood. That is WHY this sweet child is NOT riding the bus – because it won’t take them HOME.
After a bunch of frenzied walkie-talkie-ing, the child was brought back to the school, fortunately unfazed. Can’t say the same about mom.
Can you imagine?
Our first day – or first 1/2 day – or really first couple of hours was uneventful. It looked a little like this:
Delaney couldn’t figure out why mommy and daddy came along. Tomorrow will be the true test – drop off and full day.
No school buses involved.
“Take me out to KinderGarten” – Opening Day
August 19, 2009 By 6 Comments
Dear Delaney-
Tomorrow, you’re officially a Kindergartner.
I just want to tell you how much I love you. I’m so proud of you already, and this is just the beginning. This is your own personal scholastic Opening Day, so I decided to write a song about it for you to sing to your new friends (it keeps my eyes from watering).
Take me out to Kindergarten.
Take me out with my 5year old friends.
Buy me some crayons and a pink backpack.
I’ll love it so much that I do want to come back.
For it’s root, root for Mrs. Meyer’s Class
If we don’t win, someone messed up the math.
For it’s one, two, three stains on my shirt,
But, that’s what happens when you play at recess in the dirt.
Hooray Kindergarten.
I love you Mini D. Remember, your Daddy is always right. If you can remember that golden rule, you’ll always hit a Grand Slam.
96 hours left
August 16, 2009 By 3 Comments
Delaney starts kindergarten in 4 days.
That is a mere 96 hours that I have left to keep her all to myself. And then, I must let her go. The thought makes me smile. It also makes it a little hard to breathe.
I can picture myself: crying, but overcome with pride. Scared but excited. Anxious but encouraging. Thrilled but sick to my stomach. Beside myself with joy at the potential time alone and overcome with the desire to yank her back to my side and chain her there.
But I just must show you how sweet she is in her new uniform – and how easy it is to see her Daddy feels every emotion I do.
Gotta go – I think I’m down to 95 hours.
I have an ‘almost kindergartner’
August 12, 2009 By 13 Comments
Lately my small girl is pushing the envelope. She has been sassy and sometimes disrespectful. I understand. She is bored with me, bored with summer and ready for extra stimulation.
I get frustrated. And sometimes raise my voice. Scratch that. I yell.
On Sunday night, my hubby suggested I try to let it all slide this week….since this is the last week I have my baby girl home with me. Next week she is a big, bad kindergartner.
This is the very last time I have her all to myself before school takes over. The last time I will be the smartest person she knows.
He actually teared up when he suggested it. So, I teared up. I can barely handle her starting kindergarten – but him crying? I’m done.
He’s right, you know? I haven’t so much as raised my voice at her in the last 24 hours. And she has tempted me. But I want this week to be sweet and memorable for her.
This afternoon she asked to snuggle with me instead of napping. I started to say ‘no’ but realized this was my golden opportunity to hold her close and soak her in. We lay down on my bed..so close that I remembered what it was like to have her as a part of me. She burrowed under my arm and I buried my face in her neck.
And you know what it was?
Heaven. Every last second.
Time keeps ticking.
April 27, 2009 By 1 Comment
I remember this moment like it was yesterday.
Delaney wasn’t even 24 hours old.
Amazingly, one day followed the next. I had a crawler, then a walker, then a babbler and now a talker.
She is growing into this little person and it is a true miracle to witness.
This Fall will be the first step in my ‘wow-she’s-really-growing-up’ test. Delaney will enter kindergarten. I’ll help her put her little uniform on, pack her a lunch, drive her to school and let her go.
Ok – serious sappy issues over here. I just teared up as I wrote that – and all this time I’ve had myself pegged as the mom that was looking forward to having a kindergartner in school. What if I was wrong?
Tonight was a mini-orientation for parents sending kids to school for the first time. Our priest spoke. He is Heavenly. No exaggeration. No play on words. He really is a divine human being.
He told a story about a little girl who had a cleft palate. He said she was always embarrassed. Always shy. She often told kids she had been cut by glass, because somehow, it felt more acceptable than saying she was born different. She was positive no one would ever love her the way her family did.
One of the teachers, Mrs. Leonard (whom the little girl described as ’round, smiling and full of love’), conducted annual hearing tests – the kids would face away from her and place their hands over their ears. She would say one of two sentences, “What color are your shoes?” or “Is the ocean blue?” and was somehow able to determine a child’s hearing (clearly we’ve come a long way since then, yes?)
But when this little girl entered the room, she turned her back on Mrs. Leonard and waited patiently for one of the two sentences. She instead heard 7 words that changed her life.
“I wish you were my little girl.”
This, our priest explained, is how every child at our school should feel. Don’t think I didn’t cry. I did. Just a little. And I still can’t get rid of the lump in my throat.
I love knowing my child will be so very loved. I’m petrified at the thought of having so little time with her left. I’m struck down by the guilt that I sometimes can’t wait to have her in school.
But there is no going back. Time, at least in our house, keeps right on ticking.
If you find a way to put it on pause, even for a little bit, you’ll let me know, won’t you?
