A Kindergarten Review: Why I Cried When it Was Over

First day of kindergarten/last day of kindergarten

I cried the first day of kindergarten. Duh, right? Of course I cried. I had to send my first baby girl off into the world, trust her with people I didn't know, let go of her hand as she walked off without me. But as the year went on, we fell into routines. School became part of our daily routine, part of life. I got used to having her gone from 8-3, it was just a part of what we did everyday. Get up, pack a lunch, read her book for school, attempt to tame her crazy hair and put on some fashionable clothes, go off to school. It felt normal, I had accepted it.

At the beginning I sent her off and cried and cried and cried. Then I sucked it up and let my baby go to school and learn to read and do the things that are necessary to grow up.

Life went on, she grew and learned. We went on a field trip to a pumpkin patch, fun was had.

The year flew by, pretty soon it was Thanksgiving.

The pasta necklace exchange. 

A whole bunch of little indians, right after exchanging pasta necklaces with some pilgrims. Just like the first Thanksgiving...

Right after that was the Christmas program. It was...interesting.

This kid did not sit still the whole time. 

Alana and her teacher after her Christmas play. 

I helped in Alana's class at every chance I got. Halloween, Christmas, Valentine's Day, every field trip or water day or ice cream party. By the end of the year I knew every kid by name, they just called me Alana's mom. I also met other moms, the playground is like a matchmaking service for moms who want to make friends. I now know so many more people, just from sending my kid to school.

During spring break we moved, and when school started back up again Alana's teacher was out for a couple of weeks because she had knee surgery. That was rough for Alana, having a sub for that long when she was so attached to her teacher. She cried a few times, we even had to make a couple phone calls to her teacher and mail her a handpainted Get Well Soon card.

Throughout the year there were assemblies and rallies, the kids sang the national anthem at homecoming, Alana made the Distinguished Honor Roll all four quarters, and of course the thing she wanted the most was to be Bobcat Citizen basically like student of the month. You get that by being respectful, responsible, caring, and safe. I know, many many children told me.

The school won't let you wear Halloween costumes, so she did the next best thing. 

Ready to sing some songs at homecoming. 

Writing out Valentines to all of her friends. 

Kindergarten was exciting for Alana. She loved every minute of it, even when I had to force her to stay, she loved it.

The last trip of the year was to the zoo, so of course we all went.

The Friday before Mother's Day the whole Kindergarten had a short play where they sang and gave the moms cookies and flowers. A couple of weeks before that they had a poetry recital. Both were endlessly entertaining, and I'm pretty sure they both involved some public nosepicking, luckily it wasn't ever my kid doing it.

When the year was not quite through they had field day. I'm pretty sure the concept of a relay race is beyond the comprehension of 5 & 6 year olds, it was a mess. It was entertaining though, if you find little kids trying to do the long jump funny.

One of these girls was super fast (not my kid) and one of them gave the baton to the wrong kid who wasn't on their team or in their class (also not my kid). 

The last week was spirit week, and it included crazy hair day, which Alana was born to participate in. She could just roll out of bed and be ready, but we went with something cuter instead. 

The last thing of the year, since her school does not have a kindergarten graduation, was the Bobcat Rally on almost the last day of school. This was Alana's last chance to win Bobcat Citizen, and she was hyped. I had actually mentioned to her teacher when we were at the zoo (because a little name dropping on your child's behalf never hurt anyone right?) that Alana really wanted to be Bobcat Citizen, mostly because you get a free shirt and who doesn't like free shirts. Her teacher was surprised, because she thought Alana had already been Bobcat Citizen. Told you name dropping never hurt anyone, cause otherwise Alana would've been overlooked.

The Bobcat Rally finally came, and Alana was a Reader Leader (she was ranked #9 total out of the whole combined kindergarten of 4 classes), she made distinguished honor roll for the fourth time, and who would've thought, she was a Bobcat Citizen!!! To say she was excited is an understatement. She put the shirt on immediately, over her other shirt. She would wear it every day if I let her.

She was proud, I was proud, it was a good Bobcat rally. If only she was as well behaved at home as she is at school.

Then, much to my dismay, it was the last day of school. I was sad. I took her to school as usual, then I made a last minute decision to go to her class ice cream party and help out. One last party for old time's sake. I'm still unsure if it was a good idea, I was an emotional wreck. I cried like an idiot. Alana had made her teacher a card the night before, which set off my emotions already, and her teacher told me that it made her cry too. At least I wasn't alone in my tears.

I still can't read this card without crying. Then her teacher read a poem out loud about how they were all special and she loved being their teacher. Then she looked up at me and another mom and she was crying and we were crying. So many emotions are involved in kindergarten. Then Alana got her kindergarten "diploma" and we all distracted ourselves by serving the kids enough ice cream to get a giant sugar high right before they went home.

Alana wanted one last picture with her teacher at the end of the day, then we all hugged goodbye like we were never going to see each other again. I seriously don't know when I turned into such a giant crybaby, I'm guessing sometime around 2006 when I had Alana.

The reason that kindergarten was so special this year wasn't just because my lady grew up so much and learned to read, it was because she had such a good teacher. I mean really, this has got to be the most important job in the world. We trust these teachers with the most valuable things in our life, they are with our kids as many hours as we are, they help to shape our children's love of education. If Alana hadn't had such a great teacher it would've been so hard for me to get her to stay at school. There were times when Alana literally had to be made to stay there without me, I don't know what I would've done without her. Alana was excited to hold her teacher's hand and walk to class every morning, that really saved me a lot of dragging her into school.

Teachers are important, and they are underpaid and underappreciated. Mrs Hermes will always have a special place in my heart for taking care of my baby for me all through kindergarten. It really takes a special person to take care of all of these kids and love them the whole year through, then just when you get them to where they're useful and they can read and stuff, you have to send them on to first grade.

I'm still an emotional mess about the end of this year. Really, who cries because school is over? I know we'll have to make quite a few visits back to her classroom next year, at least for hugs and to give her a Christmas card. When Ava is in kindergarten (and she will probably be in her class because that's how our school typically does that, siblings all get the same teacher) I'll be more than happy to volunteer again, just because she's such a great teacher. Then when that year is over, somebody better pass me the tissues, cause I'm sure I'll cry again.

The Thin Line Between Love and Fake

***I've been trying to finish this post for over a week, but struggled because I didn't want the tone to be...off. Hopefully this came out the way I intended. 

The tricky thing about keeping it real is this: sometimes there are people who challenge that. It isn't humanly possible to like every single person ever even if you are the nicest person in the world. I mean, everyone probably likes me because I'm awesome, but I'm above average. I want to be nice to people, its not realistic to act like a catty high school girl and just be a total bitch to people because I find them annoying. But I don't want to be fake. Serious dilemma, right?

I'm struggling to find the balance between nice/friendly and fake. I can't be rude, cause I'm an adult and also my father's daughter so I can't help myself but talk to strangers and random people I meet, but I don't want to like have a big slumber party and braid each other's hair and tell them all my secrets. Do they make a card that says "Let's just be acquaintances"? Cause if not, I'm calling up Hallmark right now. 

There have been a couple of times in my life when I was friendly with someone, talked to them, even hung out with them, only to find out later that they didn't like me/talked crap about me. That made me weary, unsure of my friendships. What if none of the people who I called my friends were, in fact, my friends? What if they were just putting on a show, not brave enough to tell me what they really thought of me? Most of these incidents occured in high school, since that is the time in everyone's life when they're most unsure of who they are. Teenagers are immature to say the least, and some of them think that it takes putting others down to feel better about themselves. I don't want to be one of those people, but does that mean I can't laugh at the clueless lady who has her skirt tucked into her pantyhose?

There is a difference between talking about people when they're not there and talking crap about people who aren't there. But its a tricky one. I'd like to say that I never say anything that I wouldn't say to someone's face, but aren't we all guilty of saying not-so-nice stuff every once in awhile. That's where it gets into a gray area, can you be someone's friend if you occasionally voice your negative opinions about them? Of course you are going to have some negative opinions, but should you voice them?

I kind of, hesitantly, wonder what other people think of me. Do they think positive things? Or negative? Their opinions don't really impact how I'm going to live my life, but if someone doesn't like me and I consider them my friend, I'd kind of like to know. You know, so I can cease being their friend. Cause they don't actually like me.

I realized this morning that we are aware of how other people see us at such a young age. Today was crazy hair day at school, and Alana was scared. She didn't want her hair to be TOO CRAZY because even in kindergarten she is scared that people will laugh at her. I made her hair moderately crazy cause what I had planned was really crazy and took her to school. When she got out of the car she looked across the street, and because she did not immediately see anyone else with crazy hair she panicked a little. No one else has crazy hair! I'm gonna look stupid! She's 6, and she's worried about looking dumb. That's how early we start to care about other people's opinions. In freaking kindergarten.


I want to be friendly, and I will be, but the last thing I want to be is fake. At the same time, if disliking someone because I find them annoying even though I've never actually had a conversation with them is wrong, then I don't want to be right.

These Things I Do Daily

I don't know that I ever really knew who I was until I was a mother. Maybe its because it takes a good 25 years on this earth before you can really step back and be comfortable with being you, or maybe its because I never felt like I had a purpose. I went to work, came home, lived my life. But it all seemed like I was going through the motions. When people asked me where I wanted to go, who I wanted to be when I grew up, I had no answer.

I spent most of my childhood and teenage years overly concerned with those around me. I cared what they thought and I cared what they did. I developed personal opinions of what being cool was, what I had to do to accomplish it, and why I wasn't cool if I didn't own all name brand jeans. Do Tommy Hilfiger jeans make you cool? Cause $80 later I still felt the same. And that's $80 earned working at McDonald's for $5 an hour, those jeans should've made me the coolest person alive for that price. 

The first part of my life I wasn't unhappy, but I was never fulfilled. I always felt like something was missing, but it turns out it wasn't really something, it was someone. Three someones actually.

The first time I held Alana I felt suddenly at peace, as if my whole life until that point had built up to that moment. With my other hooligan children I felt like my family was now that much more complete, like I didn't even know what I was missing until right at that second when my life was forever altered by that one tiny person whose butt fit into my hand so perfectly.

Motherhood isn't perfect, but it helped me figure out what I wanted, which was apparently to live in a house ruled by tiny loud people who insist I feed and clothe them. Motherhood is sometimes sunshine and lollipops, and other times its temper tantrums which aren't always thrown by the children and tears. Its hugs and kisses and protests at bedtime, then a sense of relief that they're FINALLY ASLEEP, but a little pang of now I kind of miss them. Not enough to wake them up, but you know, just a little bit. Motherhood takes a lot out of you, but it gives back twice as much. Its the most exhausting job I've ever had, but it comes with cookies and small little people who give hugs so tight you feel like your heart might burst.

Everyday of my life is spent putting their needs before mine, getting up at sunrise because my little farmer boy is an early riser, making lunches for Alana because one time the school lunch burrito had green chiles in it and she's still mad, and countlessly reminding Ava that I don't respond to whining, even though Whinese is her first language, she's bilingual like that.

Motherhood isn't based on a grand gesture. I can't just show up once in awhile with some toys and a box of popsicles and expect that my children took care of themselves in my absence. Its an all day, every day thing. I can't clock out, I don't really get vacations. Being a mother is about what you do, day in and day out. Little things that shape your day, and your kid's day. Those days turn into weeks, that turn into months, that turn into years. Its what you do in that time that shows who you are to your children. If you are happy, and a hardworker, and patient, and kind, and loving, and that is what your children see from you day after day, then that is how they will remember you.

I'm not always happy. I'm certainly not always patient. But even when I've run out of patience and sanity for the day, I try to tell myself that I only want my children to be slightly dysfunctional, just enough to be funny you know? I want my kids to remember me for the mostly good things I do for them, instead of the moments when I feel like hiding in my closet and eating cookies. On good days I eat cookies out in the open, bad days make me less willing to share them. 

Daily things are the most accurate representation of who we are, anyone can be patient for one day, it takes a lot more effort to be patient ALL THE TIME. I'm unsure if its humanly possible at this point, but I keep trying, even though some nights I feel like I was less than kind at least half of the day. I vow to do better, but that doesn't always pan out. I keep on trucking along anyways, what choice do I have. I'm outnumbered by children, and frankly sometimes husbands are more like another giant child than anything else, not that I know anything about that from personal experience. I keep on going, every single day, because I want my kids to have a mother who is always there to help them, no matter what. They deserve that, plus someday I can make them do my laundry.

The act of mothering is in the daily routine, and in the love you show in small gestures. So I will bake cookies, fold laundry, braid hair, and wipe noses, its kind of my job and I take it seriously. Out of patience or not, I'm still the mommy around here, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

Funny How Things Change

I remember when Alana was a baby I was always in a hurry. When will she roll over? When can I feed her solid food? How soon till she sits up? Will she ever crawl? Come on and walk already!

This sense of urgency was not only unnecessary, it was idiotic. What was I so impatient about? What was the big rush for her to grow and get into stuff? Somebody get a time machine, go back to 2006, and slap some sense into me. Not too hard though, I bruise easily. 

Now I'm on my third kid. He can crawl. He can kneel. He can get into things. He can leap tall buildings in a single bound...well, not quite yet on that one. Witten is now more than capable of becoming Monster Baby Extraordinaire. Not only is he capable, he is willing and he is enthusiastic about his role as trouble maker.

My house is baby proof in the laziest sense possible. There's just not that much stuff down where babies can get it. Because I don't want to pick it up. I don't keep any chemicals/cleaning products in low cupboards, they're all higher than even Alana can reach. I don't really go all Extreme Babyproofing and put bumpers on every corner and a lock on the fridge and toilet (although my fridge has a built in child proof feature, plus really high handles). We do have plugs in the outlets, but my monster baby can remove them. Great. Those are useful.

With my first baby I never took any time to appreciate her babyness. I wanted her to be born two years old, ready to talk and play. With my second baby I took a little more time to soak it in, I was in no rush for her to grow up. She took her time, but I was never opposed to her getting bigger. Now, with my third (and final) baby, I refuse to assist him in any growing up/learning to get into stuff. I am often tempted to hold him and squeeze him and pretend he's a newborn who just wants to sleep on my chest, but his status as Super Buff Muscle Man baby with nearly 7 teeth make that tricky.

Witten is crawling, terrorizing things/me, sitting & playing with his toys or whatever is within his reach, and feeding himself finger foods. Somebody tell him to knock it off, this isn't funny anymore. I will not admit that in less than two months he will turn one. I will not acknowledge it, even though I've already bought his birthday invitations. My last baby. My handsome guy. He is forbidden from growing up, and although its extremely dysfunctional he is free to live in my home where I will cook all of his meals until he is 40 years old. He doesn't need a wife and a grown up life, he's my baby.

House Pictures: Whoops, Almost Forgot My Bedroom

I took pictures of my bedroom long, long ago. But clearly my quest to vacuum everyday has interfered with posting them. That and my obsession with growing grass in my dirt front yard. So far the results are spotty at best, but I will keep on trucking. Must. Own. Grass.

So....my room. Its not like a giant master suite with all this furniture and its own bathroom and crap. And really, I don't care. Its big enough for my stuff, has a super high powered ceiling fan that prevents David from insisting we have a big ugly fan in our room, and its cool and has a TV, cause sometimes the only thing I feel like doing is laying in my bed and watching TV, and I should have a place to do that.

Belated Blogging: A Field Trip

About two weeks ago Alana's class went on a field trip to the zoo. I went with the kindergarteners on the bus, because apparently I would like to eventually go crazy. David brought up Ava and Witten separately, because they like the zoo too. Who doesn't, right?

It was a pretty calm morning, all things considered. There were so many parents that drove up there separate from the bus that the amount of actual chaperoning that needed to be done was minimal, so we were free to go off separate with our own little group of kids and look at the zoo at a leisurely pace. The favorite animals among our group were the giraffes, the peacocks (which aren't actually an exhibit they just wander around the zoo), the baby elephant and two other midsized elephants who were fighting, and the otter (there are usually two, who knows where the other one was).

I am not one of those people that takes my camera to the zoo and takes 500 pictures of the animals. I know what lions look like, I don't need a bunch of pictures. That's what the internet is for, among other things. I do take my camera to take pictures of my wild children though, at an environment that isn't their normal one. Out of captivity.