Firsts. And Lasts.

Well, it happened. The baby started kindergarten. And I'm still alive. I wasn't so sure I would make it through the first day, but there were small graces. Like a donut party and pictures and sweet traditions at the bus stop. Like furtive hugs and hand squeezes when the kids weren't looking. Like coffee and breakfast and laughs with those who understand and empathize and who don't ask what you're going to do to fill your days now. As if. And like bright smiles from two girls who bound off the bus after the first day saying things like - It was GREAT! My teacher is PERFECT! I had the BEST day! And suddenly everything was OK again. I won't say I'm not still grieving. It is a transition, after all, from baby days to big kid times and it's not easy. I search for the baby that she was not so long ago (Big Stuff has been gone from Babyhood so long, I now have to refer to pictures to find my First Baby)....I listen carefully for it as she mimics the sassy conversations of the older girls and pretends to know things she has not yet grasped. I'm pained by little things, like how she refused to let me wipe her hands and face after breakfast. I wonder where mama's girl has gone. Then today, as I jump into her path on her way to lunch, I receive my prize. Joy, joy... as she grabs my neck and lets me carry her into the cafeteria...sticky, smiling cheek pressed into mine and little hands tangled in my hair....And I thought, Ahhhhh, there she is. And I get to have her for a little longer.

Zzzzzz....Harumph!

Sometimes I don't sleep well. Cutie Pie tries to convince me that we are Getting Older, and that this is a Sign of an encroaching love of elderhostels. I prefer to disagree and cling to my youth. He is giving up too soon, IMHO. There was a perfectly good reason, or make that many good reasons, why I didn't sleep on Tuesday night. There were dream beetles to battle in the girls' room. There was the dog. (There is always the dog.) There was the full sippy cup of water that leaked slowly onto my back, causing me to jump up in the wee hours, strip off my nightclothes wildly, and accuse people and/or animals of peeing on me. See, no one...whether 14 or 105... could sleep through these things. Old? Ha.

But last night, not sleeping well had to do with Worries. Ugh. I hate waking up at 4 a.m. in a relatively peaceful state only to have a flood of worries leak into my brain from all directions. I hate having ridiculous, repetitive conversations with phantom people in my mind...I should have said this, I should have done that. What if this happens, what if that doesn't happen? Why is it that we feel so small at 4 a.m.? So insecure and wobbly? Does the earth shift a little beneath our beds in the dead of night, causing us to wake in a slightly panicked state and we're not sure why? My mind had a life of its own because even though I prayed with conviction that my worries should be laid at His feet, my brain kept saying...yeah, yeah...laid at His feet.... except for this one.... Truly annoying. But I learned today that my prayer was heard. Because today brought restoration, reassurance and encouragement. All may not be exactly right with the world, but it's okay. He is with me. He is with them. The beetles weren't real. It was just water. It's okay to sleep now. The Guard has the watch.

Always Close on a High Note

Well, the time is closing in fast. You know what I mean....Summer: End. Kindergarten: Begin. We have been busy as bees getting the girls ready for the First Day. Kindergarten screening? Check. New backpack? Check. New shoes? Check. School supplies? Check, check. I've refrained from crying for the most part. Cutie Pie, always the realist, just shakes his head at me and wonders at my sentimentality so I've been working on fooling him with my Strong, Take-Charge Attitude. One of the sweetest moments was taking Small Fry for her back-to-school haircut. Big Stuff, who is Retro and a born again Hippie, although she has no idea what those words mean, has eschewed haircuts in favor of growing her hair "really, really" long. But Small Fry is still happy to climb up in her airplane chair and let Miss Tina make her into a living doll as often as I suggest it. One of the more adorable moments is when Miss Tina weaves a small braid into her freshly cut hair and sticks brightly colored jewels on the braid. I mean, words do not express how cute this is. And so I drag my melancholy self home, thinking all the while of the pure innocence and sweetness of my youngest child. A few minutes after she is sent up to get a shower, she calls to me from the top of the stairs. "Mama?" "Yes?" "Look at this." Giggle, giggle. And what do I behold at the top of the stairs but my innocent girl, stark naked, with three strategically placed brightly colored jewels stuck to her person. From kindergarten to bellydancing school....my, how time flies.

PS - And for my readers who are also real-life family and friends....My kids, one of whom can now read and Google things faster than I can, do not exactly know about my blob, as GG calls it. Which is how I like it. So keep it on the DL, people. I'm already in trouble for telling you things on the phone, I can't imagine the trouble I'd be in if they started reading about themselves in cyberspace. Dang, I've got to start putting bells around their little necks. :-)

Road Trip

Big accomplishment today: We booked our vacation. After weeks of hemhawing and trying to decide on the "perfect" place, under the guise of we-really-don't-care-we-just-want-to-relax pickiness....Well, it is the ONE WEEK out of the year when we get to do something totally fun, random and responsibility-free. And it's the one week out of the year that we fling a bunch of precious cash and time at something all in the name of togetherness. It needs to be goooooood. Also, this is technically the first time we are going on a "family" vacation, that is just the four of us for a whole week, and no work for Daddy. All week. No kidding! It's very exciting! What will we do? What will we talk about? Where will we go? What will we eat? How will we make everyone happy? Oh, it's just ever so much pressure!! But it's done. A week in the mountains on a lake and near a bunch of cool, mountainy adventures that mama and daddy experienced in their growing up years and are now excited to share with the offspring. I think it will be just the ticket. Even the dog is going. Now if I can just get rid of the lately ever-present "planning" headache and "can I go back to bed now" fatigue.

Deep and Shallow Thoughts by Jack Handy

I haven't blogged in so long, they insisted that I type in one of those funny, wavy passwords when I came online. And that is so hard when it's late, late at night, pitch black in your office and your brain is foggy. It's hard to spell too. But who cares. I am quite thrilled to be thinking about my friends, who left on a mission trip to Kenya today, and who are approaching the halfway mark of their trip as we speak! Just another hour to go. Dreams come true, you know. ...What a thrill to see God work.

Dreams come true for little girls too. For instance, one of my little girls has spent the week with a bunch of smelly horses at riding camp. I love picking her up in the afternoon - covered in dirt and who knows what else, hay in her hair, boots up on the table like she's been there her whole life, a radiant smile on her freckled face. I know she has encountered a trial or two and yet... she preserveres. She is making her way in the world. She is gorgeous.

We talk to them sometimes about the husbands we pray they will have one day. Someone who loves them, someone who is nice like Daddy. Recently, as Small Fry and I were flipping through the channels, we came across a commercial for an exercise program. A buff, muscular man hawked his product, shirtless and magnificent. She pointed at him, and without reservation or hesitation, proclaimed - that is going to be my husband. I ask her, "How do you know that one will be nice to you?" She replies, "I don't know, but that is my husband." Her daddy says that girl is going to be trouble. I'm beginning to wonder if he's right.

Forget it

I love the post-PreK pick-up (like that alliteration?) conversations. It is one of the things I will most miss next year when Small Fry and Big Stuff burst Kramer-like into the house together, talking at once and fighting for my attention after school. Last week, the thoughtful conversation topic was the phenomenon of diverted attention. Small Fry said she was really happy that her sister helped her the other day when she was crying. Big Stuff told her she was sorry that she felt bad (Go empathy!), and said "Let's read a book together." Small Fry said, "I took that part of my brain that was thinking about crying and threw it away. And then I put the book into the place where the crying was." Utterly impressed with her self-analysis, I asked, "Who told you about the brain thing?" She said dreamily, "Oh, I just thought about it myself."

Today our conversation began with Small Fry declaring that she really, actually thinks that we should move to another house, in Florida, where we can raise racoons and squirrels (raise??) and some other animals. I said, "Oh, well Big Stuff says she's going to have a farm of her own when she grows up. Maybe we can go visit her racoons and squirrels and horses and dogs." To which Small Fry asks, startled, "You mean Big Stuff isn't going to live in our house anymore when she grows up?" Right, says I. She is silent for a few minutes, ruminating. Then she says, "Mama, can we just forget that thing you said about Big Stuff living in another house? I love her, and I want her to live with us always." Consider it forgotten, sweet girl. Consider it forgotten.

Little Princesses

Reading this today, reminded me that I did something horrifying on Saturday. It just goes to show I'll do anything for my kids. We had Small Fry's birthday party at the theater (say it like this ...theeahtah...but picture a teeny hole-in-the-wall overrun with adorable child actors and stage-moms-turned-face-paint-artists). Part of the deal was that Small Fry got to get up on stage and have the audience sing Happy Birthday to her. I was seated next to a loquacious 5-year-old by the name of Talky McTalkerson. Talky is just about the cutest little thing you've ever seen in your life - long dark ponytails, a delightful, bubbly personality and an amazing conversationalist, let me tell you. After the birthday song, during which Small Fry stood in the spotlight with a peaceful and satisfied look on her face as if to say, Yes. Yes. Now, this is living....the master of ceremonies informed us that they were holding auditions for a new play called A Little Princess. He tells us that the lead character is a spoiled little girl who frequently throws tantrums. To which my sweet Talky whispers, what's a tantrum? Obviously she is much too sweet and angelic to have ever thrown one so of course she doesn't recognize the word. I mime to her, you know... a tantrum...and I clench my fists and stomp my feet a little to demonstrate. The gentleman on stage continues to talk and then asks, Now who out there knows how to throw a tantrum? To which my sweet, darling, precious Talky shouts out - SHE DOES! and points at me. I am called up on stage and asked to throw a tantrum. For everyone. With a spotlight on me. It's strangely like every nightmare I've ever had. Except I am wearing my clothes. And as for dear, sweet Talky? Well, that girl is dead to me now.