Melissa Anne Cohen

This is the kind of weekend that I hope my kids think of when they remember their childhood.  I’ve got Sarah, Jessica, Sam, Glennys, Caroline, and Sasha all outside, riding cozy coupes and wagons down the hill and screaming as loud as they can.

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 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.

(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?

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.

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.

Here’s hoping that third grade kicks second grade’s butt!  Last year wasn’t a lot of fun for my girl, and I’m very encouraged that she came home yesterday saying that she LOVED her new teacher.

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.

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.

Mothering is not for the faint of heart.  I’d say parenting, but right now, I’m going to do a little gross generalization, and assume that what’s true for Marc and I is true for all parents.  Because I seem to worry about everything a LOT more than my husband does.  It’s not that I love the kids more, because I don’t.  I know that they are the very center of Marc’s world, and that he cares about them as much as I do.  But I worry and agonize over them a lot more than he does.

I worry all the time about their character, their morality.  I want them to be brave and bold and kind.  Giving, gentle and sweet.  Confident, capable, responsible.  But mostly, I want them to be kind.  I like kindness.  It’s sort of my thing.  Some parents want financial success, ambitious kids, some kids want them to follow in their religious shoes, or to vote the same way they do.  I don’t care about that.  I want them to be kind.  I want nice kids.  They can be dirt poor, or staggeringly wealthy – I hope that money isn’t what they use to define their worth.  They can celebrate Rosh Hashana or Christmas or Beltane, I don’t care – I’d like them to feel a connection to the Divine, however it manifests itself is fine.  I don’t care if they vote for a Democrat or a Republican, I’d like them to vote and to care one way or another, but which one?  I’m good with whatever.  But mostly, I’d just like for them to be kind.  To be good people, who think about others, and want to make the world a better place.

And when they’re not – when I’m forced to confront the fact that they, sometimes, just ARE NOT KIND, but are in fact, kind of mean spirited and selfish and nasty to one another, I can’t help but feel like I’ve failed as a mother.  And I’m baffled by it, how do you teach kindness?  I can teach them to not hit each other, I can teach them to stop throwing temper tantrums and to eat their vegetables and make their beds. I can teach them to use their manners and brush their teeth and speak respectfully to adults.  But kindness?  How does one teach that?   Modelling good behavior isn’t working as well as I’d hope – I’m kind.  I’m a nice person.  Marc is, hands down, the nicest person I’ve ever met.  He’s way nicer than I am, and I’m wicked nice.  And sometimes, my kids are just nasty to one another.

Ugh.  Just a bad day overall today.  Julianna is teething, and screamed for a good half hour this morning. Then screamed for another twenty minutes while I brushed Jessie’s hair.  And Jessie – man, I adore that child, Jessie was not in the best frame of mind today and was just randomly cruel to her little brother.  Who was innocent and confused, and it just spiraled out from there.  I’m still sick enough to feel like I’d be better off in bed, and everyone’s getting anxious and stressed about going back to school.

Definitely not a morning I’d like to repeat.