This is not Going to Help

He speaks

I know I've probably mentioned on here a couple (thousand) times that Henry cannot stop talking.  He starts talking right when he wakes up, talks all day long, and talks himself to sleep at night.  Now it is Franny who cannot get a word in edgewise  And he likes to argue, even when he agrees with you.  He just repeats your stated position in a condescending tone, as if he'd thought of it and was educating you.

So, this morning on the way to take his sister to school, which takes less than a few minutes, here is some of what he had to say:

Henry:  I be a knight for Halloween.

Mommy:  That's right, Henry.  You can be a knight.

H:  BUT NO, MOMMY.  I GOING BE A KNIGHT FOR HALLOWEEN.

M:  OK

H:  Some cats are nice, but other cats are mean sometimes and I gonna show my big teacher my new sword.  Daddy got me a new sword because he broke my old sword because he step on it and now I have a new one and I have three and I got this sword to take to school in my backpack.  Where is my backpack, Mommy?

M:  In your lap.

H:  (Laughs.)  Oh, there my backpack is.  I take it to school to show all my teachers and my dirty blue bear is lost but my nother blue bear is not dirty and it is in my bed at my home.  Where are we going?

M:  We are taking Franny to school.

H:  But we already passed Franny's school and which way to Franny's school but where are we going to my school?  Which way to my school? 

M:  Franny's school is just ahead.

H:  But where is Franny's school?

M:  Straight ahead.

H:  Left?  Right there!  Right there?

M:  No, straight ahead.

H:  But where is my school?

M:  That way.

H:  Oh, but we are taking Franny to school first to her Tinnergarten and then we are going to my school and Spiderman and Batman and Superman are all nice but they do not have any swords and I want to be a knight for Halloween and Franny be a bat.  But Peece (Pearce) is at my school upstairs he is five.  Am I five now I go upstairs to school with Pearce?  But I have this tattoo and I show Peece.  <Insert loud, sudden shooting noises with flailing, jerking limbs and frequent interjections of "PEEECE">

And we park the car.  At least we know what's on his mind?

Rear view mirror

To Franny, on beginning kindergarten

You probably think it has been easy for me to surrender you to kindergarten, because I hold you while you’re crying and I tell you it is going to be all right.  I tell you I understand why you are scared, and I tell you that I love you and would never send you any place unsafe.  I tell you it is OK to cry, OK to be scared.  I tell you to trust me, as you have in the past.  I tell you that I miss you, too.  I do.  All day long I feel like someone is sitting on my chest, until I collect you at the end of the day, see how happy you are, hear how much fun you had.

You are beginning to relax, and I can see the beginning of your adjustment to this new school, long day, new teachers, new friends.  And the accomplishment is yours, Franny.  You are doing this yourself, and that is part of the reason I wanted to write you this letter.  To let you know that I have been so tempted to “fix” this for you.  As I’m trying to help you ease into this new thing, I actually try not to do too much, because I want you to have faith in your ability to manage and conquer and enjoy new things and situations.  And since I haven’t been doing anything, I’ve felt terrible.  I’ve worried that you think I don’t get it, and I do.

You talk about your teachers, whom you adore.  You use big words correctly, like today when we were watching Henry run down the lane away from us and you said calmly, but with a twinge of worry:  “How far do you think he intends to go?”  You let me dress you however, but you refuse to wear sneakers on Fridays, which is a minor mystery.  When I look at you in your class, you look just like a gleaming little penny to me.  That’s the girl, I think. 

You are still my baby, but I can’t believe how long your legs are.  You fall asleep on my bed almost every evening and one of us carries you into yours.  Your feet knock into my knees, but I still cradle the weight of your head in my hand when I lay you down, just like I did when you were a newborn, and I imagine that my body makes the same basic motion as it did five years ago when I was putting you into your bassinet by the sofa where I slept right next to you so I wouldn’t miss anything.  And now, well, you come home and fill me in on the things I’ve missed during the day while you’re blocks away from me.  I am so proud of you.

Love,

Mommy 

Continued neglect

I know I owe you guys a decent post.  I continue to be overwhelmed by my relatively charmed life.  Franny has turned a corner and looks forward to going to kindergarten each morning, so I no longer feel as if someone is sitting on my chest all day.

She knows better than I do which day of the week it is, and she tells me which days she's supposed to wear sneakers.  She loves gym and music and is fond of art and reading.  She seems genuinely to adore all her teachers, and I really like those I've met, too.  My gratitude for this is pretty much endless, let me tell you.  There's nothing to make you feel better about having a near stranger rip your screaming child out of your arms, than to actually like that near stranger.  And to trust her.

I wanted to take/post some first day of kindergarten photos, but we'll have to substitute these third week of kindergarten photos instead.  The photos from week one would have included Adam and me trying to pull a crying Franny out from under the living room sofa. 

Here she's wearing a ribbon in her hair that I wore when I was in kindergarten.

 

I'm trying. I really am.

I have a lot to say to you people, but I just can't find the time to say it.  There was a time I'd have cringed to hear a housewife say such a thing.  And, honestly, it isn't that I can't scrape together the 30 minutes it would take to write and tell you how kindergarten is breaking my heart, it is that I just don't have the 30 minutes of the sort of calm inside my own head in which to do this pleasant task.

My friends, family and acquaintances have all been hit with terrible blows this week.  Some are unspeakable.  By comparison, I am lucky.  Lucky.  But I'm down, and I'm tired. 

Here are photos of old friends, for which we are all (and will be) grateful.