What I Learned at (Back to) School (Night)

Thursday night, we sat in tiny chairs and listened to Lu's teacher, Mrs. Robinson, tell us the rules of the road. She is a charming, bright woman who is undeniably The Boss. I think there must be very little B.S. in her classroom. What there is in her classroom is very well-ordered fun. She emphasized a few key concepts she's working on with "the friends," which is what she calls the kids:

• Finish what you start. Move on to the second thing when you finish the first.
• Everything has a place. Put it back when you're done.
• You can do it yourself. Just try — you know how.

Focus. Order. Independence. If anyone had asked me what values I most wanted to instill in Lu at this age, I would not have come up with any of those. I think would have said "kindness," "compassion," and "creativity." That's why school is good for her. She's learning things we don't really do here.

Comically Grouchy

I have been thinking a lot about the Moses Law — the one that allows people to safely leave small children at firestations, as opposed to leaving them in dumpsters or wherever. This law is really meant for infants. And would not work for us anyhow because Lucy knows her address and could probably give could perfect directions from our neighborhood firestation.

Here is an abbreviated list of the various sources of about 115 fits thrown between 7 and 9:16 (and top reasons Lu almost went to the firestation tonight):

Barbecue. "NO, I WANT SOMETHING ELSE. SOMETHING ELSE, NOT THAT."
Cole slaw. "I DON'T WANT SOME OF THAT. IT'S REALLY, REALLY YUCKY. I WANT A POPSICLE."
Waiting. "I DON'T WANT TO WAIT UNTIL YOU'RE DONE EATING. THAT'S NOT A GOOD IDEA AT ALL. I WANT A POPSICLE NOW."
A fork. More specifically, a popsicle that was cut with a fork instead of a knife. "NO, DAD, PUT IT BACK TOGETHER, PUT IT BACK TOGETHER." Granddad laughed and said he'd like to see how Jason was going to pull that off.
Consequences. Jason explained very calmly that if she kept drinking the bathwater she'd have to get out and skip TV. She screamed, "DAD IS SCREAMING AT ME. DAD, STOP BOSSING ME AROUND."
Shows with "town" in the title. After asking to watch "Higglytown Heroes," she responded to the start of the show with "NO, LAZYTOWN, I SAID LAZYTOWN!!!"

Poor kid. For all my firestation talk, I knew she was tired. She was asleep within less than a minute of lying down. I stroked her hand for about 30 seconds before it went slack. Then I cuddled up with her for a few minutes, enjoying the nicest she'd been to me all day.

Beach Trip '07

The first time we all rented a house at the beach, we were 23-25 years old. It rained. We stayed drunk for 2.5 days, listening to Ben Folds Five and daring each other to swim in the rain.

The second time was several years later. "We all" was a slightly different set of people. We listened to a lot of "This American Life" on the iPod and I was pregnant. The so-called lodge was a roach-infested trailer, but the upside of staying in crappy conditions on a deserted island was finding lots of perfect sand dollars on the untouched beach. I wrote Lucy's name in the sand for the first time, and looked at it until the waves came to take it away (my first hint she was a girl).

This year (and there have been a couple of trips in the interim), we rented a great place just off the beach in Port Aransas and the trip included four kids, lots of games, naps, sun and good food.

How's that Ark Coming Along?

This morning when I arrived at work, I saw two cats huddled under a car taking shelter from the rain. They looked at me expectantly, as if to say, "Are you Noah? Strange. We were expecting a beard."

This rain has got to stop. Our carport is flooded. Our back patio is wading pool that may soon be higher than our slab. I have seasonal affective disorder. My Mexico tan has faded to a pale that self-tanner can no longer remedy.

Seriously.

What is Attractive When You're Three

Last night on the way home from Pie's house, I was sitting in the back seat with Lu and Justin Timberlake's "Rock Your Body" came on. I LOVE JT. He is everything I wanted Michael Jackson to be in 1984. We sat in the back seat, both of us nodding our heads in the grooviest way two white girls can.

"Who sings this song, Mom?"
"Justin Timberlake. He's Mom's boyfriend."
"Why?"
"Because he is very handsome."

She thinks for a minute (maybe about what a boyfriend is, what handsome is, why I am even thinking such things when I am married to her father), then asks:

"Does he have a bike?"

Lucy the Brave


Last Monday, Lucy started a new Montessori school. It's more like real school, as opposed to the Montessori-leanining daycare she's been attending for the past year and a half. We loved her old school, but we were ready for her to move to something a little more structured, with smaller ratios and more instruction.

It felt like she was ready too, because she'd begun to have problems at the old school. On her last Thursday there (which ended up being her last day because she got sick), she BIT a kid because he wouldn't hold her hand like she'd asked him too. Her teacher explained that Lucy had always been bossy, but now that the other kids were getting to be more developed, they didn't like it. Lucy defended herself by saying that she asked him nicely and she had only bitten his shirt.

And so she escaped being a pariah by mere days. This fresh start has big, cheery classrooms (inside a seemingly abandoned, 60s-era strip mall). It has Spanish, gymnastics, karate and tennis. It has COMPUTERS (not unlike the ones I used to learn to program BASIC when I was nine, but still, computers). It has a school bus.

Lu started the week with great anticipation and a successful first day. But by Wednesday, she was scared of taking a nap. By Thursday, she was fretting and losing sleep over going to school at all. The kid had insomnia. She wanted me to rock her in the green chair and "just talk about school, okay?" I tried to ask questions and focus on the positive, but all she could tell me was that she didn't want to go to school, she didn't want to take a nap, and she didn't like the friends at the new school. She didn't want to talk about school, just to talk her way out of going. Her anxiety was heartbreaking.

Friday morning was hell. Our only comfort was that Mrs. Robinson, her gentle genius teacher, was able to calm her, and she made it through lunch. Saturday, she woke up happy and then she remembered...school. "I don't want to go to school!!!" Not Saturday, Sunday, Monday, never. She'd stay home by herself with her guys and Duck. "I won't be lonely, okay?"

Then Saturday night, she and Granny had a slumber party. Being away must have helped her get some perspective on the whole school thing. By Sunday, she was telling us she wanted to go to school and take a nap. She woke up this morning and said again that she wanted to go to school and take a nap. She said she didn't need to bring a Duck or anyone because she was really big. I told her she should have options: maybe we should take someone just in case. She decided on Baby Rosie.

"Babe, are you sure you don't want to take Duck?"
"I just want Baby Rosie. Duck and Stripe can stay in the car."
"But won't Baby Rosie be lonely? You should take Duck to keep her company."
"Then Stripe will be lonely in the car."
"I will take Stripe in the office with me."
"Duck and Stripe can be company at your office and I will be company with Baby Rosie."
"Okay."
"And when I get to school, I'll have Baby Rosie and I'll wear a big smiley face, because Mrs. Robinson wants to see a smiley face."

And she did. She said "Bye, Mom" and asked for hugs and kisses over and over again, with manic forced happiness masking her tears. I am not sure if she did it for my sake or her own, but watching her made me proud and sad. I realized why she wanted to leave Duck behind: it's hard to keep a stiff upper lip when you're sucking your thumb.