The First Day of Kindergarten

Many a mommy blogger has written on the subject of sending the fruit of your loins off to Kindergarten.  There are a lot of tear-inducing posts out there.  Some really good ones.  Essays that meander from the first moment that wet, wriggling, little creature angrily arrived to the first teetering steps, from spaghetti-smeared faces and unsanctioned crayon murals to the first solo swim across the pool or unsteady ride on the bike.  Through the Years by Kenny Rogers plays in our heads as we name the memories, sweet and funny and terrible.  I get it.  And part of me wants to write that blog post.

But I'm not going to.

I'm going to be honest and tell you I'm excited.  Yes, of course I feel a tiny pang of something that feels like sad. But I choose to shift my emotions away from that.  See, I don't want her to stay little.  Is it crazy to say that??  I've loved every age for different reasons, and yes, they go fast.  And no, we can't go back.  There are things I loved about high school, college, dating my husband, kid-free marriage and her babyhood and toddler years.  But I don't long for those days.  We're here now.  Let's be in NOW, now.  

Five only happens once.  This is cool.  It's exciting!  New friends and skills and challenges.  New schedule and activities.  Things will go wrong and we'll figure them out.  All that we've poured into her - the love, the guidance, the limits, the mistakes, the love, the love, the love...it was for this.  Not just this.  But this, for sure.  Not so I could cling to her last whispers of littleness, longing for her to need me.  Not so I could cry over losing what once was.  Rather, so she could walk through the doors of that school knowing she can do it.  Here are my hopes and dreams for her for this year:

That she knows we believe in her.  That she'll experience success in little and big ways.  That she'll mess up, and survive.  That she'll fall down and get back up.  That she'll overcome something difficult through persistence.  That someone will steal her juice box and she'll take it right back.  That she'll sit next to the weird kid to be kind.  That she'll begin to discover her gifting and talents.  That she'll ask good questions and think of creative answers.  That she will enjoy most days.  That she'll make friends and receive the care and guidance of special adults we'll think of with appreciation years from now.  That she will win something.  That she will fail at something and be ok with it but try harder next time.  

I've thought about this transition many times.  And I've made many decisions with it in mind.  I know it won't all go smoothly.  But I think we're ready.  

Yes, I miss her baby smell and I tear up when I watch old videos and hear how high and tiny her voice was.  I'm not a robot, People.  But I choose to focus on how special and cool and exciting THIS time right now is.  We'll never have her first day of Kindergarten again.  We made it.  We did it.  We got this far together.  This kid has the potential, as they all do, to change life as we know it.  She might cure the cancer that made the last year of our lives really hard.  Or forge peace in Iraq.  Or lead the next revolution.  I want her to look over her shoulder the day after tomorrow for one last glance before she goes through those doors to take on the world.  And I want her to see me standing there not tearing up, worrying and fretting, but instead bursting with pride, cheering her on, full of confidence and the highest of hopes.  The man next to me, on the other hand, the one I'm married to, will require Kleenex, I'm sure.  

 

Delinquent Mommy Blogger

In my defense...I did have CANCER. But seriously, it's time to update this blog. Cass is going to be 5 tomorrow. FIVE. I remember when I was pregnant with her, one of the other moms I met online had a kid turning 5. I remember thinking this little bean inside me will never be 5. I could not think past labor and delivery at that point. Good thing. Had I known the sleepless nights I was in for, I would have, well, I don't know what I would have done, but I would have tried to figure out how to get out of it, that's for sure. The good news is, we've gotten through the sleepless nights. We've gotten through teething. Shitty diapers. Her first fall. Her first bout of the stomach flu. Her first time poking dad in the eye.  

We've gotten through a move to a new house!  Her thoughts on moving (as a 3 year old) were "but dis house IS big.  Look how high up it goes!" Her little hands reaching toward the ceiling.  I suppose it's all relative.  

A big kid bed!  The railing has kept her in just fine although I do occasionally find her somehow draped over it in what appears to be the world's least comfy position, covers tossed aside, nightgown around armpit level.  Of course, I untangle her limbs and retuck her in.  Isn't that funny?  If she was uncomfortable or cold, I guess she'd wake up, but as a parent you just can't stand it that they somehow MIGHT be.  You just want them to be safe and warm and not wake up with a crick in their neck.

She learned to swim!  Like really swim, face in, forward progress, no fear.  I love it.  Teaching her to swim was a real thrill for me.  It was important to me that she learn for safety but also because it has been one of my greatest joys - water.  I mean...swimming, learning to do a backflip off a diving board, snorkeling, surfing, practicing underwater handstands and spending hours with friends attempting "the lift" from Dirty Dancing.  

So this almost 5 year old of ours.  She is funny.  And snugly.  And opinionated.  And astoundingly logical.  And persuasive.  And insistent.  And charming.  And full of mischief.  And creative.  And good company.

It's been a tough year, with the cancer and all.  But she's taken it in stride.  She prayed for me, cuddled with me, put my slippers on my feet, understood when I was too sick to play.  On one hand I'm pissed that my kid had to learn how to leave a chemo patient alone to recover.  But on the other hand, I'm grateful we experienced this.  When she prays, she thanks God for my health.  How awesome to have a child who isn't scared but knows that wellness can be fleeting and to give thanks for it?!  This little person will know when one of her friends says "cancer" how life disrupting it is.  To her, cancer is a tangible enemy you fight with doctors and drugs and friends and family and love and prayer and flowers and soup.  Not some vague bad thing you don't talk about.  That, my friends, is a blessing.  

This child is curious.  Oh, the questions!  The car rides have become periods of interrogation.  Why this, why that?  How?  WHEN?  How long?  How much longer?  She wants to know ALL of the things.  I try so hard to be understanding.  I want to foster her curiosity.  But for the love of all things decent and holy, I don't know!   And shhhh!  Quiet game starting now!

She likes the game "Would you rather?"  Traditionally it involves hard choices.  Eat a spoonful of dirt or drink a shot of mud.  Cassidy's version is often simple and tame.  Would you rather...go to Target or the grocery store?  Would you rather have corn or green beans?  This is somehow funnier to me.  I enjoy this game way more than I Spy.  Shudder.  That game is The Worst.

She makes friends easily but is loyal and attached to her special friends.  The kid knows a BFF when she sees one.  She loves being with kids but time with an older person who is totally focused on her is a favorite way to spend time.  

Cass likes vegetables.  Like, she eats that first on her plate.  She does not care for meat very much.  Big fan of fruit.  Also French fries, chicken fingers and grilled cheese sandwiches.  She loves Perogies and white pizza and macaroni and cheese.  She begs for sugary kids cereals and I say no.  She would eat candy all day long if she could.  She hates shrimp and soup.  She has never had a soda...wonder how long I can get away with that.  

Cass can read very well for her age.  She blew through the first set of Bob books and she is getting the second set for her birthday.  She can read and spell so well we can no longer spell secrets in front of her.  That is a sad day.  Now we have to make up reasons for her to leave the room if we want to say something we don't want her repeating.  Or, you know, swear.

Cass is girly in that she loves dresses and skirts and anything sparkly.  But she loves playing outside and running around and getting dirty.  I love that.   

She likes being as she puts it, "in charge."  You KNOW I love that.  Surely, it's my lot in life to raise a girl who wants to lead.  I love her no matter what she ends up doing, but I feel especially equipped to love her through the ups and downs of being "in charge." 

My little girl is turning 5.  I'm not sad.  It's good to grow up.  I've loved every stage of her childhood.  Sure, I miss scooping up a tiny bundle, but this stage is so fun, too!  This parenting thing is pretty great.  I'm lucky to be her mom.