I Let Papa Go

Wolfie's first grade orientation was tonight.  We realized yesterday that this is for parents only.  Oh, right, no kids allowed.  I don't know what Gabe or I pictured.  The two of us sitting closely side by side with our three children on our laps; a pyramid of attentiveness as Wolfie's first grade talked about curriculum?  It was too late to find a babysitter.

You'd think I'd be all over this first grade orientation night, being a teacher myself and all.  Yes!  I was excited about this.  School, it's my thing.

But this week I realized that in my marriage, my partnership, I'm a leg up on the school thing.

For instance, when Wolfie told us at dinner this week that all the kids in his class have cards and his was green at the end of the day (but one classmate's was yellow) I immediately knew it was the green, yellow, red behavior model.  Everyone starts off green, but if someone gets a warning for a poor choice, that child is to change his or her card to yellow.  Another infraction - it's red for you kiddo and if you look right over there, there is a visual reminder.  Let's do better tomorrow.  I learned about this technique in college, used a variation of it myself.  Gabe, however, was fascinated.  "What is this?  How does it work?" and I was struck by how even though all of this parenting a child in school (newborn babies, Gabe and I have it down) is new to us both, it is just a bit newer to my husband.

I said, "Gabe, do you want to go to Orientation?" 
"I just assumed you would go; it's your thing."
"Uh huh.  But do you want to go?"

Papa went to orientation.  And now I need to wrap up this post because my husband just asked me if we could go over the papers he received tonight.  Apparently some handbook and other papers we need to sign.  He's a leg up on me.

Sometimes you have to let someone else have something in order to be even.  It's only fair.

It's the little things.

I clipped Luna's fingernails with the regular nail clipper.  It wasn't too big. 

I always use the baby clipper on her.  The baby nail clipper, the one I received 6 1/2 years ago at my first baby shower which came in a kit including a baby brush, comb, and baby toothbrush, was in the other room so I just used the regular nail clipper.  It made me sad that she didn't really require the baby sized clipper. 

I mean, I'm definitely going to use the baby one on her next time.  For sure.  It was just by accident that I used the regular sized one today. 

Then I clipped Wolfie's nails and toes.  I reached his baby toe and noticed that this was the littlest thing on his bigger boy self.  I found such joy in that little baby toe.

I kissed it.  I said, "Your baby toe is so little and sweet."

Wolfie looked at me like I was weird.  Get used to it, buddy.

I've Done This

I have tucked my children into bed on a Friday night and then promptly passed out while wearing my work clothes - bra, belt, socks, the whole outfit minus shoes.

The above explains why my Friday Feature is one day late.

First Day

Today was Wolfie's first day of first grade.  That means he got on the bus this morning and stayed at school ALL DAY.

Today was my first day of work with students.  That means I went to work, attended a meeting, greeted students in the hall as they arrived, helped a few kids open their lockers, then had a break because I have prep time for the first two periods.  It happens that I "forgot" something really important at home, so I was able to scoot home real quick.  It's a 7 minute drive from my driveway to the parking lot and vice versa.

Guess what was going on when I pulled up in my driveway?  Gabe and the girls were getting ready to see Wolfie off on his first day of school.  What luck!  And he gets home after I do so I'll be able to greet him as he gets off the bus every day.

Returning to Work

So...I went back to work today.  All week, and all day yesterday, and especially all of yesterday evening, I labored over what to write.  How could I put into words what I was feeling now that summer vacation - i.e. my time as a stay-at-home mom - was coming to an end.  I just couldn't write about it.  I mean, it stinks.  Well, that's kind of harsh.  But it definitely feels like someone just pulled the drain plug out of the summer vacation swimming pool.

I still don't know what to say about how it feels.  I mean, it just stinks.  And I'm afraid to write this because I fantasize that someday I'll have a million followers on my blog and this post will be read by people I work with or, worse yet, my boss.  I'm afraid that they will think, "Oh, June doesn't like to work here.  She'd rather be home with her kids."  Well, yeah, I'd rather be home with my kids but that doesn't mean that I don't like where I work.  And it definitely doesn't mean that although I love being a mother above all, that I'm not a good teacher.  Because I am a good teacher.  I'm dedicated to my students.

Oh, that must mean you can turn off your mom-mode when you go to work and turn off your work-mode when you get home, you must be thinking.  Well, no.  I think about my kids while I'm at work and sometimes share stories about them with my students.  I'm open and real with those kids I teach and many of them have younger siblings and this is how we relate.  Remember when I said I'm a good teacher?  That's because I'm particularly good at building relationships with my students because I can find stuff to relate to with them.  And, although I generally only think about my children while I'm with my children playing with, mothering, and cuddling with my children, I often think about my students while I'm at home.  Some other mother's troubled child sometimes keeps me awake.  And that's okay because I know my children's teachers will do the same if the occasion were arise.  And if my own children needed my worry, that's okay to because I always have some breathing time in the morning at school to think about who in that building needs my care especially that day.

So instead of writing about how it feels to end my summer vacation with my kids because that part is a little painful, I'll write about what happened.

My Tulip has been waking me up at 6:15 every morning of summer vacation.  Sometimes 6:10.  Sometimes 5:55.  The others follow her soon after.  This morning, I got up at 6:00 and did some yoga, by myself, while my kids slept later than usual.  But Tulip had gotten up to go pee at about 5:50.  She went back in her room.  I could kind of see her playing with her stuffed animals in bed when I peeked in the crack of her bedroom door.  She had stayed in her room and came out later.

It's like she knew.

When Luna woke up, she crawled into my lap and said, "I.  Love.  Mama."  I left for work and hugged and kissed everyone goodbye.  Luna, my baby, wrapped her arms around my neck and hugged me long and tight.  She wasn't clinging.  She was giving me the hug I needed.  She let go and said, "Bye-bye Mama."

It's like she knew.

I missed them terribly all morning at my meetings.  I felt that pang in my chest and that fullness creep into my breasts and I thought, "Well, it must be 1:00.  Luna's getting sleepy and wants some milk."  I checked the clock and it was 1:05.

It's like I knew.  Of course I did.  Because above all, I am a Mama.  And now, again, I get to be a teacher too.

Milking it

This post is not about milk.

This afternoon, a rare thing occurred in our house.  Wolfie threw a toy at Tulip's face.

I'm not being sarcastic here.  Yes, of course our children throw things at each other, as all children do, but we've done a pretty good job teaching them what toys can be thrown in the house.  There is a very, very short list of toys that can be thrown at sisters.  They are the six soft jingly blocks, the soft football, and...uh, I guess that's it.

I don't know what game they were playing - I mean, other than that game where you throw toys at each other - but Wolfie threw a wooden food toy at Tulip and it hit her in the face right next to her eye and left a tiny welt.  This, is unprecedented.  Seriously.  Again, no sarcasm.  This was a big deal.

So we dealt with it, then shortly got everybody ready to go to Central Park downtown in Valparaiso because that is suddenly the best place to be.  Today was a Taste of Valpo festival and for $5 your kids could get a wristband and jump on inflatable things all day.

Luna can really hold her own in those bounce houses.  For her, the biggest challenge is sometimes climbing up that ramp to get in the bounce house.  Two of the inflatable things had ladders and slides and we wondered if she could do the ladders on her own.

Of course she can.

But to play it safe, we asked Wolfie (or maybe he volunteered) to be Luna's "partner" to see if she could climb up the ladder herself.  After she proved that she could, Wolfie apparently had something to prove as well.  He continued to hold Luna's hand and lead her from bounce house to bounce house (there were four).  He was the model big brother.  Another two-year old friend really wanted to go in one of the inflatables so we hooked him up with Wolfie too.  I told him that he was being such a super big brother and for a moment I thought that he had just jumped this huge maturity milestone.  But then Gabe leaned in and whispered, "I think he's trying to prove that he's a good big brother" and I remembered the wooden food thing. 

Yeah. So.  We decided to milk it.  He watched over his younger sister for, like, 30 minutes!  Do you know what this means.  Gabe and I were free - FREE - to talk to other grown-ups uninterrupted.  It was awesome.

Wolfie finally asked me if I could watch Luna so he could go in a bounce house himself.  Oh, that boy!  He really is that sweet.  He didn't need to prove anything.  But, sometimes a mama and a papa do need to be able to just chill with other mamas and papas.


Second story of the day.
We went out to eat in between bounce housing.  At the restaurant I had to take the girls to the bathroom just before the food arrived and then again just after the food arrived.  Of course you did, all of you seasoned mamas are snickering.  That's the way it goes with kids in restaurants.  Yeah, yeah, I know.  But, I figured out how to milk it.  I ordered ribs.  RIBS?!  I can't even think of the last time I ordered ribs in a restaurant with children.  That's like ordering to be hand-tied.  Plus, by the time I finally sat down to eat my ribs everyone else but the baby was nearly finished.  Again with the snickers - I know, I know.  But then, I was all, "Mama can't do that for you.  My hands are covered with barbeque sauce." and "I can't do that for you.  I'm eating ribs."  And pretty soon Papa was saying, "Let Mama eat her ribs."  and his hands were all over the baby's plate and she quite enjoyed ordering her Papa to butter her yet another cracker.  Was I that incompetent to parent my children because of some sticky fingers of my own.  No.  But sometimes a mama just has to enjoy her own sticky fingers.

I've Done This

I've let my children eat food that has fallen on the floor.

I suppose I should write that in the present tense, as it occurs with frequency.  I let my kids eat food that falls on the floor.  If my child was to drop a piece of food on your floor and you were to say, "Hey, three second rule!", my child would look at you with a blank expression.  Haven't introduced that phrase.  It's more of a pick it up and eat it now, later, whatever.

Of course there is the exception - we don't eat food that has fallen on public bathroom floors, I'm sure of it.  However, I cannot even picture a time when I was in a public bathroom with my children and they were eating.  Huh.  I guess I don't have to worry about that much.  Oh, and under the table of a restaurant if the floor is really gross.  It's hit or miss, but I guess I strive to teach my children to leave it be.

C'mom folks.  What's your food on the floor rule?