1st Day of School

It just feels wrong to call it a first day of school. I mean, really... it was a single hour of school, with a total of three children and their parents in attendance. Still, Melinda was very excited about it. She had gone from being excited all summer, to nervous and not wanting to go over the last week. I finally got it out of her that she was worried she would miss us. And when I told her all about my (few) memories of Kindergarten, and school in general, it seemed to cheer her up. And our slot for school today wasn't until 1pm. Can I tell you how tortuous it was to make her wait all day? She must have asked me a million times how much longer it would be until we could leave.

Yesterday, in preparation, we made a "Get ready for school!" chart, which shows her everything she's responsible for doing in order to get ready. From eating breakfast to going potty, you know? Just so she doesn't forget anything. Also, Jesse gave her a perfectly lovely father's blessing before bedtime, blessing her (among other things) to have a sharp mind, learn quickly, adjust easily, and make new friends.

After lunch today, we packed up all her supplies into her backpack and took pictures before we headed out the door. When we got to her classroom, her teacher, Mrs. Cibor (pronounced see-boar), greeted us. We put her supplies on a table, got a name tag, and went out to the hall to put her backpack in her very own locker. It was tricky for her to figure out the latch... it was heavy and difficult for her to slide up. Finally, two hands did the trick.

Once the other two children arrived, they did a story time followed by a self-portrait. Once they finished their self-portraits, they were free to explore the room. Melinda and the other boy there wound up getting out the large-ish lego blocks and making long lines out of them, so they could measure their bodies. It was cute. In the meantime, Mrs. Cibor talked to us about routines, paperwork, any questions we had, and everything like that. Mrs. Cibor is very nice, and has been teaching for 19 years, including at the Baltimore Friend's School, which is a very nice private school down in the city. From what she says, Pot Springs Elementary is comparable in every way to the private school. Of course, that kind of thing makes me sad when I realize we'll barely be getting into the swing of things here before we'll be moving on to who-knows-where.

I'm a little worried about Melinda getting bored in Kindergarten, now, honestly. I took all that time to help her learn to read, worrying about her being behind other kids who went to preschools, and it turns out that they'll only be working on ABC's for the first couple months, and not even starting phonics until November. After we're gone. I hope they have some sort of opportunities for her to put her reading to good use. But everything else sounds very nice. They'll even have a pet hamster. Who just happens to be blind in one eye, and apparently a little bit mean. ;)

I've got her lunches and snacks planned out for the week-- she starts her first full day on Wednesday. Tomorrow she's got school for 2 hours without me, and with half of the class (of 21) instead of with just 3. She definitely thought today's one hour was simply not long enough, so I hope she's not completely dissatisfied with tomorrow! We'll be on our way into the swing of things before long.

Melinda really likes her backpack, especially with the rainbow embroidery that we picked out a few weeks ago. She's thrilled to show it off.

Walking up the sidewalk to the front entrance of her school.

Finding her locker in the hallway, and attempting to open it. Lovely earth name tag on the locker! :)

Everyone sits in their own squares while Mrs. Cibor reads a story. They actually read a book that I recently acquired. :)

Melinda with her self-portrait. She actually asked Mrs. Cibor what color her skin was, when there were about 3 choices for skin crayons: dark brown, medium brown, and very light peach. And then later she asked me what color her eyes were (she knows!). And when she said she didn't know how to draw plaid pants, Mrs. Cibor suggested she pick one color to make the pants. But I love the detail of the bee on her shirt, and teeth (albeit scary, pointy teeth!). And when I asked (and giggled) about the short hair, she told me she drew short hair because it was faster. Silly girl.

Also, just for the sake of sharing... Melinda planned a family talent show to do after school today. Nothing fancy, but the kids sure liked it. Melinda did a bunch of cartwheels, after which Jacob tried to copy her, and then transitioned into "fighting tricks". He's getting interesting with those, lately. His level of coordination is definitely improving with his age! Jesse did his classic removing his thumb trick, with his half-thumb, which got some giggles. And I kept it simple, and decided to do something physical along with everyone else, and put my legs way up in the air while balancing on my shoulder blades. Of course, that degenerated quickly into giving airplane rides on my hands and feet to more than one kid at a time. Anyway... it was fun. And it was fun to see Melinda take some initiative in planning a family activity.

Here's to a great tomorrow!

The Last Straw

I like to think that I'm relatively stress-free these days. Sure, Jesse's losing his job. Sure, we don't know where we're going to be living in a couple months. Sure, Melinda's going off to school in three more days. But I have faith that it will all work out. I'm just going with the flow, going about our day-to-day life as it happens. It will all be fine, I know it will! We just have to get from here to there.

Still... I guess I've been perhaps more subconsciously stressed than I've been willing to admit to myself. You see, my computer's been on the fritz for a while now. Every now and then, it will just get super finicky and not boot up. When we run it in safe mode, we discover that it's hanging on a file called mup.sys. Well, the grand ol' internet tells us that this pesky little file could be pointing to problems with anything from its USB ports to the hard drive failing. Great. Usually, a good amount of completely unplugged rest time would be enough to cure it, but not yesterday. Yesterday it just wouldn't start up. Jesse finally decided to call it quits on trying to mess with it and bring it back to life, and instead sacrificed his computer to become mine. He made my old hard drive a "slave" to his, so I would still be able to access my things, while his did the hard work of actually booting up. I was relatively content with this solution... until I actually sat down to mess around with it.

Even if I tried to use my internet browser from my hard drive, it would run the browser from his. Complete with his settings, his bookmarks, his cookies. NOT MINE. If I tried to run iTunes from my drive, it would still access all of his files. Not mine. Not the ones I painstakingly organized for hours and hours. If I tried to use Outlook to access my mail, all it came up with was a blank, un-used program. None of my saved emails, my contacts, or anything. Nothing was my own, nothing at all!

This, after a long, tiring day at the beach and a school orientation meeting. The sun and humidity had sapped all my energy. I was completely drained and exhausted by the end of the day, and all the stress of trying to make things mine again was just too much for me to handle. Jesse would offer me suggestions, and it literally felt like everything he said was turning into mush once it reached my brain, because I couldn't even process the simplest of his sentences. It all started to sound like complete gibberish, even though I knew the words he was saying. After a long while of trying, and working and coming up against a brick wall, I finally gave up, shut off the computer, and found myself staring at the blank screen, just crashing into despair. I couldn't see how it would get better. Everything was just a mess, and I couldn't deal with it.

I laid my head down on my arms and buried my face in defeat.

Jesse noticed, and asked what was going on. I couldn't bring myself to make more than some guttural, nonsensical response. Again a question, again no real answer from me. Did the computer crash? "No, I turned it off," came my mumbled reply. Obviously, my face-burying was not a normal response after turning off the computer. Jesse had watched me get frustrated with the state of things during the evening... and at this point, he came over and touched my shoulder gently. "It'll be okay, Becky," he assured me.

And I lost it. It was the last straw. I started sobbing. It didn't feel like everything would be alright. Everything was a mess, it was stressing me out, and I couldn't handle it. I just wanted my computer back!!! "Nothing is right!" I choked out in between sobs. My mind raced. Saying that statement out loud suddenly made me realize I wasn't just talking about the computer. We don't have a job! My husband's not happy! Our van is too old! We don't know where we'll live! The house is a mess! My finger feels like it belongs to a leper! Alex's teeth aren't healthy! My baby's starting school! My computer shouldn't be doing this to me when I'm already dealing with so many things! Nothing is right!!

"It's so stupid to cry over a computer!" I wailed through my tears. Isn't it stupid? It's just a thing! It's not really important! All the important things I have saved on my external hard drive, nice and safe. The really important things are the people around me, and they have nothing to do with this. This is really not something to have a breakdown over. Right???

Jesse paused before he answered. "No, it's not stupid," he responded. "It's like walking into a home after it's been robbed and everything's a mess and things are missing. It makes sense to be upset."

Oh. My brain had not come to that conclusion. I hadn't thought of it from that perspective. Yes, it did feel like that. Nothing was my own, it was like sitting in front of something completely foreign and unfamiliar, something completely uncooperative to my needs, when I was so used to things being exactly the way I liked them and working exactly the way I needed them to. My computer is my lifeline for so many different things, after all. Of course it was upsetting to have that all ripped away. So, with that realization, I allowed myself to feel it: All that frustration and despair.


I cried harder, not saying anything else. Jesse shushed me and caressed my shoulders, reiterating that it would be alright, these were all things I could fix. His touch was a much-needed lifeline to reality. It would just take some time. And wasn't it a good thing I didn't lose access to all my things completely? Not much longer, and my distress came to an end. The last of the tears fell, my body quieted, but I still felt a bit numb. I wasn't ready to deal with things just yet.

But I was feeling so grateful for (and particularly in love with) my husband, who has such a unique and understanding perspective that I need in my life. Who works so hard to make less-than-ideal situations work. Who supports me and loves me. He's most of the reason why I'm so confident that things will be fine. How could they not be, with Jesse taking care of us? He always comes through.

As of right now, even though I've had limited time to work on things today, I've got things mostly up and running to my general liking. I have to reinstall a couple things... but I'm confident they'll work out. There's a few things I can't seem to change (the annoying blockish font, for one...), but I'm sure I'll get used to them with time.

See? It really was fine. But, I suppose every camel's back has a last straw waiting for it somewhere. I guess mine was a computer breakdown, leading to my own personal emotional breakdown. The cry did me some good, I think, and made me realize that maybe I'm a little more stressed out than I thought. It's good to be aware of it... though it sure will be nice when life can get back to normal again. And it will also be nice when a steady income means we can start replacing the aging, decrepit sources of some of my stress, of course. ;)

Big Girls Don't Cry

I want time to stop and remain in these next few days forever.
And yet, some days, I just want to get it over with already, and see what it will be like.

I've been a mother for 5 years, 10 months and 8 days.  2,139 days.  For every single one of those days, Melinda has been by my side, never separated for more than a few hours.  Some days have been great, some days have been terrible, and some days I'll probably never even remember.  Even still, I'm not ready to let those days go.  I'm not ready to be the mom of the school girl.  I'm Becky... I stay at home with my kids.  Melinda is my #1 helper, my go-to girl.  She's the ringleader, the creative spark during playtime, the technical whiz, and often the biggest reason I convince myself to drag us all out of the house to do something interesting.  Because I know she'll like it.

My very first baby, my pride and joy.  She's a big girl, now.  Almost 6 years old.  And I sit here, trying to define all the thoughts and feelings that have been running through my head for the past few months, but more especially the last couple weeks.  I'm about to send her off to Kindergarten.  Alone in the big world for six and a half hours every day, making new friends where I can't watch, being responsible where I can't remind her what to do, making her own choices, learning her own way...

I suppose I'm lucky that I've had an extra year to get used to this idea of sending her off.  Because of her late birthday, she's just starting when she's almost 6, instead of almost 5.  I think she's ready.  Throw her into a room full of strange kids, and she'll immediately try to take lead of the situation. Nevermind if she forgets to ask anyone's name, and just shouts, "HEY, YOU!" instead.  Everything she does, she does with all her energy.  (The only way I can think to describe Melinda is to say that she's vivacious. Vibrant.)  I'm positive she'll throw herself into school with everything she's got.  In fact, she put up quite a fuss when I scheduled a time to go to her best friend's neighborhood swimming pool (at her request!) when it ended up having to be scheduled for after her 2nd day of school, in the afternoon.  "But I'll be too tired!!" she protested.  I'm sure school will be great for her.  She's already amazed me with her quick uptake on the reading. 

I feel like I'm in a constant state of rubber-necking.  Watching her grow in leaps and bounds (first it was the bike riding without training wheels, then it was swimming underwater when she used to be terrified of getting her face wet, and then it was reading whole books without any help from me)... all while constantly being reminded of the fact that she is so much the reason I am who I am.  The decisions I've made in my life, the person I've become... it's all happened largely because she was born.  And grew, day by day by day (all 2,139 of them), taking me right along with her.

And in just 6 more fleeting days, she won't be just mine anymore.  She'll be out there. 

And, yeah, I'll admit I'm quite worried if I let myself think about certain things: Will she be safe around strangers?  She has such a tendency to leap into the arms of any friendly-looking person, trusting and open-hearted as she is.... Role playing certainly didn't seem to help her grasp this concept of caution. Will she be safe???  And lesser worries: Will I plan ahead well enough give her wholesome lunches?  Will she be okay without her snacks between meals?? Will my calendar fill with crazy scheduling dances that I can hardly wrap my head around?  Will she be okay in a school setting and learn well?

Will Jacob and Alex miss her? 

Oh, definitely.  I hope they adjust well to the dynamic that the majority of their day will be without Melinda in charge.  I hope I remember how to play and interact with a 4 year old, one-on-one.  I hope I can manage to think of things that will be fun for them both.  For so long, Melinda's been my top priority when it's come to planning activities.  But now what?  If I want to think of an outing, what will I choose?  Oh my goodness, it will be boys that I'm catering to. Do I even know how to handle that??


Will I feel completely lonely without Melinda in the house?

Yes, I certainly will.  For at least a while. 
Maybe always... I don't know. 
My heart definitely wishes I could go with her, and at least watch her. 

Six more days.  Six more days I'm so grateful that I have.  I hope they will be good days that I will cherish... but I also know that they aren't enough.  I hate that I know that they won't be enough.  I'm still not ready to let go.  I don't think I'd be ready to let go if she were 30 years old and just leaving the house.

Well, maybe her teenage and adult years would prove me wrong on that one, but from my perspective here and now, I feel like I'd be heartbroken no matter when she left.

And maybe I'm being melodramatic.  Yes, I realize I'll see her every afternoon as soon as she gets home, and have every weekend with her, and many many vacations lie ahead of us... But seriously, this feels so much like the beginning of the end to me.  Once she starts school, I know that time will feel like it's going by at the speed of light, and before I know it, she'll be a teenager, then an adult, then moving out, getting married....

... And I just want her to be my baby forever.  The person who's there for her, day in and day out.  Life just won't be the same when she's gone for such a large chunk of time for so many days of the week.

Change is hard.  But it's exciting, too.  I can't wait to see her learn new things, and grow into her own person.  To see how I change and grow, too.  But mostly, I just keep thinking about these last few days being something I'll never repeat again.  It's definitely one of those life-changing moments, the day you send your very first child to school. 

It hurts to think about it.  I still don't know if I'm expressing my thoughts and emotions clearly... but I don't want this moment to go by without saying anything at all.  And I know I'm not going to be in any shape to say anything coherent on her first real day all by herself.  Maybe by the time I'm sending her off to college, I'll be more articulate.  But then again, I'll probably say much of the same, and with just as many tears: 

There goes my baby girl.