I'm always looking for things that are special for just my oldest kiddo. He is the one who always seems to need some more attention, or gets asked to be independent, just because he is the oldest.
We always read books at night, but we often read together with his younger sister too, and we often read many of the same old favorites. I love this part of our night, but I was thinking about a way to do something that felt more grown up for him. I started looking up chapter books for preschoolers and scrolled through a few lists. I instantly recognized a cover that I had seen before, My Father's Dragon. I knew I had several copies of this at school from one of our book club units, so I brought one home last week. This has now become one of my favorite parts of the day. I am so impressed by his curiosity and his comprehension of the book. I read aloud and he asks questions and talks about the main character, Elmer Elevator, as though he is a friend. More than once throughout the day he will refer to the book, or how he can't wait to read at night. We have gotten through 8 chapters and only have 2 left, so of course, now I'm looking for the sequel.
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It’s wild how much of a difference a winter can make.
Today I took “the big kids” as we call them, outside to play in the beautiful sunny weather. “Can I sit on the back of the truck?” my son pleaded as he climbed onto the tailgate of the Fisher Price ride in truck. “Sure!” his sister agreed. “Hold on I’m trying to get in! Okay, go!” Two giggling babes did circles in the driveway and down the path. My daughter Flinstone-feet-scooting her rain boots along the concrete, my son’s rubber boots, on the wrong feet, dangling off the back of the tail gate. “Can I drive now?” “Yeah let’s switch” I mostly watched for a long while as my 2.5 and 4 year old played. They didn’t ask for me, or need me to get anything for them. They didn’t even fight (for a while, anyway). Last fall would have been a totally different story, with a 2 and 3.5 year old. It was, honestly, just a lot more vigilance on my part. I’m constantly reminding myself, amidst the storms of parenting, that every hard phase ends. But those precious phases- the 2 preschool-ish aged giggling babes, riding around in a plastic truck phases-those end too. So those really sweet ones are the moments I’ll focus on. Today was a good day.
We celebrated my mother in law’s birthday and hosted a full day of festivities. Pizza and mochi was had by all. And now only 1 out of 3 of my children are asleep… while all should be by now, and I am tired. But… it was a good day with minimal meltdowns, so I’m content to hear the giggles on the monitors as I write. This week one of my reading groups is working on an excerpt from The BFG. This whole group is made up of some pretty clever and funny kids who have a lot of personality.
Some of them had heard of this story before, or had even seen the movie that was made after the book. They did not know or recall, though, what BFG stood for. The guesses started: Baby Fat Giant... Boy Funny Giant! Big Farting Giant? (This one even got a good laugh from me.) Big Fat Ugly Giant! Oh, wait, there's no U. And on they went. Was it the most productive use of 3 minutes? No. But it definitely brought the group closer together, for us all to share laughs. Son: Let's talk about the weekend.
Me: Okay. What do you want to talk about? S: What are we doing Saturday? M: It's Grammy's birthday party! S: Are we going to have cake? M: Yes! S: I don't want cake! M: Hmm... Okay, well you don't need to have cake. S: NO! I NEED CAKE! M: Then you can have cake. Being just under four and a half is very confusing. Today felt hectic. It was a nonstop marathon from the time I woke up to now, 8PM.
I had an important meeting which ran late, a phone call I missed from my son's school, returned the call while picking up my daughter, picked up my son, who had an injury at school today, listened empathetically while he cried about the injury the whole way home... And then, on a whim, I just made the decision to get Panera for dinner. And, let me tell you, that decision made ALL the difference in my mood the rest of the night. No cooking, no dishes, leftovers for my son's lunch...all good things. It was the spontaneous decision I needed to make to save my sanity tonight. I remember sitting on the floor in the gym for an end of the year assembly, next to one of my especially wiggly students. This was the one and only year I taught first grade, and the one and only year I left my "nest" and was at a school other than the one I am at now.
My principal at the time tapped me on the shoulder and asked me to follow her to her office. A little concerned, I followed. And when I saw the superindendent of human resources, I felt a lot concerned. He sat me down and said, "Listen, I have some good new and some bad news." He explained that he did have a job for me the following year. YES. The job wouldnt be at this school, it would be back at my original school. YES. The job wouldn't be first grade, like I was teaching now... and it wouldn't be kindergarten, which is what I taught before first grade. I guess I can work with this. The job would be 5th grade. VOMIT. (Okay, not literally, but I definitely felt a bit sick.) The job would be teaching with a new parner, Lesley. And as soon as he said that name, I could breathe again. The moment I knew who I would be working with, I knew I could do it. Welcome to 5th grade! Anyone who knows my teaching partner knows, she would never let a friend fall. And for 6 years now, she has become my "mom," listened to me cry, helped me navigate getting my masters, helped my substitutes through 3 maternity leaves, and brought me Reese's of all shapes. In my work life and in my home life, from the day I found out she would be my teaching partner, she's helped me catch my breath over and over again when I felt like I'd never make it. Getting my daughter to bed tonight, and rushing to get to class on time, I did the quick version of stories and songs.
I told her favorite, made up, nonsensical tale “Runaway Baby” but with Baby making less stops along their runaway. I sang 2 songs instead of the 15 she usually requests. She’s 2.5 and still asks every so often for me to rock her. Of course tonight, when I had no time, was one of those nights. I scooped her up and held her. “I’m like a baby!” she laughed. And for a few minutes I just rocked her. I stared at her silly grin and listened to her giggle. Her front teeth (like mine) are almost too big for her mouth and poked out between her lips. I watched her eyelashes- for some reason my kids’ eyelashes are the epitome of beauty to me, and constantly leave me in awe…I don’t think I’ll ever get over that- floating open and closed and cinching closer together at the corners when her smile got bigger. “I love you to pieces.” I whispered to her and kissed her squishy little cheek. I have to write these stories because I worry if I don’t, I won’t remember these tiny little moments that feel like I’m in exactly the right place at exactly the right time. And I was, even though I was more than a couple of minutes late to class. My 4 year old is very into two things- numbers and creating artwork. He can recite times tables and add three digit numbers in his head. He plays guess the number for fun and seems to constantly have visions of arrays dancing in his brain.
He prides himself too, on counting things. He often counts and reports the number of pieces of artwork that are hanging on the walls in his bedroom. Ever since he stopped sharing his room with his sister and got a room all to himself, he has made it his own, meticulously taping each corner of the new masterpieces, and choosing the right location for them Occasionally he will retire an older piece that he deems "too simple" or "not my favorite anymore." He tends to hover around 54 pieces of art on his walls. He says he is the artwork master. "You're invited to my art show!" he told me today. "Oh my gosh! I can't wait! After breakfast, I hope I get to be the first guest in your gallery." He positioned a Hot Wheels track across the doorway as a banner, and invited me in. As any good artist would, he explained the mediums he used for each piece and the inspiration behind them. Mostly it was "I used a lot of colors and scribbled really fast." Or something like that. He pretended to be showing me his collection for the first time, and in some ways I did feel like I was seeing it with fresh eyes. I wasn't just being asked to place one a bit higher than he could reach. I wasn't being called during "quiet time" when he decided one of the pages needed to go. I was seeing the pride he felt showing off his work. Of all of the things that he is, proud is one of my favorites to witness. A self-care care package from friends:
Snacks Bath bomb Adult beverage Chocolate Chapstick Facial masks Grubhub gift card They say "You can't pour from an empty cup." And, honeslty, I've been pouring for a long while. Thanks, friends, for seeing me. |
Author5th grade teacher, wife, mama to my 3 magical babies, ally, advocate, doggy foster mom... just stumbling on. Archives
March 2022
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