A Bittersweet Goodbye To Preschool

Bittersweet. People use the word all the time but when you find yourself in a situation that fits the word, it is often more bitter than it is sweet. It’s often difficult to describe our emotions when we find ourselves in one of these “bittersweet” situations. More often than not it is because we are in uncharted territory. We are navigating waters we have yet to travel and it feels almost impossible to determine our exact feelings when we are having a difficult time getting our bearings. This is parenthood. The milestones we reach with our children are bittersweet. We want them to grow. We want them to change. We want them to succeed. Those are the sweet spots. It’s the letting go we are forced to do in the process that it is bitter. After all wasn’t it just yesterday that we held them for the first time and whispered in their tiny little ear how we had never loved anyone this much? Sure it was. To us it will always be yesterday.

My youngest is graduating from preschool and while that sounds like the smallest of the milestones to some, it is one of the biggest to me. You see preschool was a magical time for us. It was a time that he got to go out on his own without me for a little while, but was still right with me every step of the way. He left me to learn his letters, numbers and colors. He left me to play trucks with his friends. He left me to put puzzles together and have snack time with his pals. He left me to play dress up. He left me to make hand prints on paper and watch butterflies come to life. He left me skipping with a backpack that was way too big for him to find out which one of his new friends had brought in cupcakes for their birthday. He left me, but only for a short time. The moment I picked him up he told me all about every minute of his day. He told me all about story time. He told me all about that funny thing that Frankie’s brother did. He told me everything. Every. Single. Thing. I don’t know much, but I know enough to know it won’t always be this way. Preschool is a short two or three years but it means so much more than the time reflects. As we come to the end of this journey I realize it is not just an ending for him, it is one for me as well.

To the moms I met in preschool,

We might not have realized it at the time but we met each other at the sweet spot. We came together at a time of innocence. Our children knew each other before they knew anything about the big wide world that is awaiting them. Our children did not care about where any of us came from. They only cared about snack time and play time. They cared about who had a great story to share. They cared about the kid who was crying because he missed his mom. They cared about the child who was absent and wanted to know why and when they would return.

They didn’t care about what their friends were wearing to school. They cared about their friend who couldn’t have nuts and made sure to remind their mommy to bring a snack she could safely have. They didn’t care about what their parents drove to school. They cared about knowing who their mommy was and making sure they didn’t leave if she was running late to soccer. They didn’t care about what their last name stood for because they were just so proud to be able to recognize it at circle time. They embraced one another’s differences without having to point them out. They encouraged each other to be themselves. They were inclusive. They were the epitome of innocence. They never cared about status. They never cared about the exterior. All they ever cared about was each other.

The end of this time is bittersweet not only for us, but for them even though they don’t realize it now. They were able to enjoy a time of innocence with zero judgment. They were able to be who they are without anyone telling them they should change. They were confident. They were proud. They were kind. They were helpful. They were what we all wish on a daily basis we had the courage to be. They were true to themselves.

Ironically we got to experience that too. We were a group of moms thrown into a school without knowing each other, but because we had children who were judgment free, we too were able to remain that way. We were able to show up at pick up every day and talk to one another without issue. After all we have children who are not hurting each other emotionally or physically. We have children who set an example. We have children who have yet to be exposed to the hurt of the outside world. Here we thought we had popped the bubble by enrolling them in preschool only to realize we have been happily living inside one all along.  I want to tell you all that this is a time I will forever treasure. My son will grow and move on and he may from time to time mention a pal from preschool. I want you to know that when he does I will look back on those memories with nothing but fondness. I will look back at a time when we all held the innocence of their age. I will look back at the special days, soccer games, music classes and field trips and I will smile. I will remember my son just like this because of all of you. We have no way of knowing what the future holds for our children, but what we do know is that the past will hold a treasure of beautiful childhood memories.

The ironic part of our preschool experience is the realization that we can learn so much from them. If we were somehow able to bottle up the innocence and have it carry on through high school and adulthood it would be amazing. If we were able to show adults what is really means to act like a kind human being, our kids would be the example. Sure High School gets all the glory but Preschool is the place where innocence still lives. Preschool is where judgment doesn’t exist and love is a word thrown around with meaning. Our kids are graduating preschool but I hope they carry the lessons they learned there with them forever.

All my best,

Jen

Learning to swim on his own.

A Trip To China-The Day I Had To Take My Kid To The Gynecologist

When you become a mother all humility pretty much goes out the window. It starts when you’re in labor and from what I can tell it continues until your kids move out of your house. I no longer get privacy when I pee, shower or change. I was considering bolting the door closed but I have the sneaky suspicion that they will find an open window or a way to propel in from the roof. Kids are good at finding you. They really should work for the FBI.

My kids are getting older so we have actually started to lay some ground rules about not walking in on mommy in her granny panties. I mean good grief I don’t need an entire preschool class getting a full on description of my underwear during circle time. I still have nightmares about the time my oldest walked in on me peeing before preschool. He asked why my penis looked funny to which I replied, “Honey mommy doesn’t have a penis. I have a vagina. Now can you please get out so I can finish and we can go?” I remember thinking I handled it perfectly. Crisis averted. Therapy avoided. Then we walked into preschool and he told all the moms in the lobby that his mommy has a penis on the inside. “It’s so weird. You can’t even see it.” He’s almost eight now and I know he doesn’t remember this but I’m fairly certain there are a few mothers from that class that still talk about me at their book club while clutching their pearls.

My oldest is pretty good about boundaries and privacy. I think it is because he is suddenly realizing he too would like some privacy while using the toilet. I’m glad to have him on board. My four year old on the other hand still doesn’t get it. He would gladly greet the mailman in his underwear. He still thinks it’s ok to pee in the backyard even if we have company. I thank potty training during the summer months for that one. Now when I tell him it’s unacceptable I’m often met with, “But the dog does it.” It’s hard to argue with a four year old. Their thoughts make complete and perfect sense to them and trying to argue with them is like banging your head into a brick wall over and over and expecting it to collapse. The wall will still be standing but you will wind up with a massive headache.

I can tell you any advances I was making with teaching my four year old about boundaries were thrown out the window this morning. Today I had to do something that I have never had to do. I had to bring him with me for my annual exam at the gynecologist. Yes. That’s right. He had to come to the lady doctor with me. First off let me just say that in our house we have always referred to body parts by their real names. Despite the fact that the word vagina has been said in our home, the four year old still thinks it’s called a China. I know this because the other day on the way to school he asked me if all girls have a China. I told him yes and he then proceeded to name every single girl and woman we have ever met in our entire lives and repeat, “Fill in 80 names here has a China.  We hit every traffic light that day because of course we would.  

This morning I carefully explained to him that he was going to have to come with me to the doctor.  Ladies you all know how hard it is to get an appointment with the OBGYN especially if you see a group and you want someone specific, so cancelling was just out of the question. I told him he could pick a special snack to have afterwards if he was good. I told him he could bring his iPad. I have never hoped and prayed more that my child would stare at a screen than I did this morning. I told him it would be quick. He agreed to all the bribes and we were on our way. When we arrived there was what seemed like an unusually high amount of pregnant women in the waiting area. Now I know that this is where pregnant women go to get checked, but I’m telling you it seemed like every other chair had a pregnant woman sitting in it. The four year old turned to me and with a lower than normal voice (thank you Jesus) said “Geez mommy why do so many ladies here have babies in their bellies? Is this where you come to get one put in? Are you having a baby put in today?”

“Mrs. Lizza can I have you fill out an updated information sheet for me.”

Again thank you Jesus.

Before I knew it I was being called in for my exam. This is where it gets dicey.

The nurse weighed me (can I at least take my damn shoes off) and then she asked me to give her a urine sample.

 4yo: “What’s urine?” Volume level: 400

 Me: “It’s pee honey. Be quiet and follow me.”

 4yo: “Ewwww. You have to give her your pee???”  Volume level: 850

 Me: “Yes. Come into the bathroom and close the door.”

 4yo: “How are you going to give her your pee? In your hands?”

 Me: “No. In a cup.”

 4yo: “A CUP??? You mean that thing. It’s so big. Do you have to fill the whole thing with your pee?” Volume level: 1,105.

Me: “Honey, please. I can’t pee with you being so loud.”

4yo: “Why not? Is your pee scared of my voice? Because that would be weird.” Volume level: 2,200.

I then proceeded to hand my bucket of fearful pee to the nurse and walk into the exam room.

4yo: *Pointing to foot stirrups* “What on earth are those things?” Volume level: I’m sweating.

The nurse handed me my paper doily to keep me warm (laughable) while wearing my open in the front gown. I didn’t need the paper doily today though because I was sweating from the fear of the future therapy bill for both me and my son. All I kept thinking was oh my God we are going to have to remortgage the house for the therapy bills. We might have to move. Circle time. Oh for the love he has circle time tomorrow.

The nurse then proceeded to ask me what my husband and I were using for birth control and all I could think was THIS. We are using this very day as our birth control. It will work for now and all of eternity. She looked at me and asked if I wanted to speak in code. In code? Is there some secret code language for mothers who have to bring their child with them to this appointment that I don’t know about? Could someone have handed me a pamphlet in the waiting room? I don’t know code. Instead I proceeded to mouth my answers and much to my delight she understood me. God bless her.

She told me the doctor would be in shortly and told my son he could sit in the chair against the wall facing the stirrups. Now I was really sweating. I was considering high tailing it out of there because I was picturing him going into school and me getting phone call after phone call from every mother in the class. As I put the gown on, my four year old was laughing. I looked at him and said,“OK honey. It’s not funny. I have to wear this.”

4yo: “What is it? It has a big hole in the entire thing. It doesn’t even make sense. You won’t let me wear those jeans to school anymore that have a hole in the knee.”

Just as I was about to tell him he could wear them to school every day for the rest of the year, the doctor walked in. She talked to him for a little and then to me. She stood up and looked at me and said OK well what are we going to do with him? Hmm.

“Hey buddy, come with me I bet the nurses have some work you could do at the nurses’ station.”

4yo: “YES!! Awesome!”

Me: “YES!! SO Awesome.”

Her: “Yeah I don’t need to be the reason he needs therapy.” *Wink*

It was like she was in my brain. Oh thank you Jesus. My four year old does not have to witness my annual China exam.

She came back in and we laughed and laughed about being mothers, having boys and dealing with things our husbands simply could never understand. As I walked out my son was sitting with the nurses sorting through stickers for all the kids who come in with their mommies. I told him it was time to go and he stood up with a smile. The woman in front of me was expecting and she was making an appointment for her next ultrasound.

Volume Level 200,000: “So Mommy did you get one of those put in today or what?”  He starts kindergarten in the fall so thankfully he will never have to come with me to the China doctor again. 

The Picture Book

If you have a Facebook account you are well aware of the See Your Memories feature. If you don’t have an account here’s a brief rundown. Facebook gathers your memories from that particular day from a year, two, five or even six years ago and reminds you of exactly what you did that day all those years ago. OK so in the grand scheme of life five years really isn’t all that long ago. Most high schools don’t even host a five year reunion. I mean what would be the point am I right? Five years post-graduation doesn’t allow you to miss people enough to care about asking them a million questions about what they are up to now. Just me?

Unlike the President of your graduating class, Facebook doesn’t want you to miss a memory so they don’t care if it was a mere five years ago. They want you to see your memories and they hope it’s going to make you feel all the feels. Sometimes my memories make me feel nothing because it’s just a whole day of things I shared that I thought were funny, or maybe a recipe I wanted to make or a picture of a bird. Why the heck did I take a picture of a flipping bird? I apologize to all my friends. I digress. Other times Facebook succeeds and makes me feel all the feels. ALL. THE. FEELS.

This tends to happen when I haphazardly pull up Facebook on my phone while my boys are busy getting their backpacks on (also known as wrestling until I lose my mind) and BAM it’s a picture of my seven year old as a newborn. Oh it’s like a kick to the gut. Then wham a video of my almost five year old learning to crawl. OH FOR THE LOVE! I love reminiscing just as much as the next person but I can’t always handle the reminder that my boys have grown and changed faster than I thought.

You see the mornings are crazy, after school is nuts, trying to make dinner is chaotic and bedtime, oh geez I’m tired just thinking about that fiasco. So it’s not always easy to step back and take a breath. It’s not easy to think about how far my boys have come from the days of snuggles and blowout diapers. Yet here we are in a new place of wedgies and fart noises and on the days I think I can’t take one more minute, Facebook shows me a picture of them as toddlers covered in pudding and I laugh and laugh.

Every time Facebook shows me a memory I am immediately thrown back into a time when things were simpler yet somehow hard. I find myself reminded of so much more than the fact that I look older (and oh man do I), or that they look older, or that time has moved. I am reminded that with each stage of parenthood there are new challenges, new things to learn and new little people developing right in front of me. I felt so focused on their development when they were babies because that is what we are taught to do. We are taught to watch for their milestones, make sure they are pooping enough, eating enough, sleeping enough etc. Now that they are older I find myself focusing on making sure everything is done for school. I make sure they make all their activities and have a packed lunch with the appropriate number of snacks.

I stress about making the right amount of events for each of them so they both feel special and loved. I want to make sure they are both reading enough and not getting too much screen time. I want them to play outside and drink plenty of water. I want, I stress, I need and I love over these two human beings that didn’t even exist at one time in my life. I lived thirty three years without knowing them yet here I am unable to imagine living a day without them.

I have learned to love the See Your Memories feature on Facebook but the thing is I don’t need it to know what we were doing five years ago. Sure I might not remember what we were doing this exact day five years ago, but somehow when you become a parent you create a picture book in your mind. It’s an amazing feature. I go to it often. In fact today as I watched my four year old run around with his friends at a preschool sports program I remembered watching his brother do the same while I held him in my arms and fed him his bottle. As my seven year old got off the school bus today I remembered the days I used to see our neighbor’s kids do the same. One of them is a police officer now. Time moves. It moves for everyone.

The beauty of time moving for parents is the ability to see our children grow and change. My parents have a tree in their front yard that was a tiny little thing when I was little. I never noticed it growing but today it stands tall. It stands proud. It was growing all those years right in front of me. That tree grew much like my children do, day after day, year after year right in front of me. It’s the picture book in our minds that allows us to realize just how much they have grown.

I will continue to look at the memories Facebook provides me but I will forever hold onto the memories I am creating in my mind. One day I will be that old lady who tells young moms how fast it goes. Sure I hate when people say it to me, but I think that’s because I know it’s true. Parenthood is hard. Anyone who says otherwise is lying, but I look at it this way, the beginning of a great novel can move slowly. The middle feels steady and interesting. The end always goes way too fast and when you get to that last line you always wish it didn’t have to end. You often find yourself wanting to start the book all over again. I think that’s why people with grown kids always tell those of us who are in the middle of all the chaos with little ones to enjoy it. They got to the end of that great book and they would do anything to read it all over again from the beginning. We are all writing our own story and just like any great novel it will be full of ups and downs but in the end it is our story with the characters we created and just like our Facebook memories, it will be one we will look at over and over again for quite some time.