Proof Positive

Annie is always a helpful girl. She’s a born pleaser – she just wants to do things to make you happy. A great quality, really. So it should have come as no surprise when she brought this paper home from school yesterday:

She just wanted to back up my story.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go jreeing my coffee. And work on my annunciation.

What I learned this week

Jo-Lynne at Musings of a Housewife has a great carnival going on. I have enjoyed reading others’ posts, but apparently I have been blissfully ignorant because last week I’d learned nothing worth sharing. This week, though…this week I have a few tidbits for ya.

1 – Skunks are not afraid of Shih Tzu. Or things thrown at them. Or hysterically shrieking women. Skunks are actually quite brave, and thank the good Lord above they do not spray as freely as one might think.

2 – You need an emergency kit in your house. I know you know this, just like I know this. But knowing and doing are two very different things, aren’t they? Just because you already own a flashlight and candles and extra batteries and non-perishable food doesn’t mean they are all readily accessible when you’re suddenly in the dark. And having peanut butter as you backup dinner plan is less than desirable these days.

After losing power again, I am finally committed to making an actual Rubbermaid tub full of goodies. Two weeks ago we were in the dark and the COLD because of ice storms, and tonight we are in the dark because of windstorms. At least it’s warmer now.

3 – Q & U are married, and they are always together. However. Mr. Q needs Mrs. U, but Mrs. U does not need Mr. Q. So says Annie, who earned this handy dandy chock-full-of-interesting-subtext letter lesson in school this week. I’ll never view ‘unicorn’ in the same light again.

So there you have it, a few of the valuable life lessons I’ve learned this week. Be sure to pop over to Musings of a Housewife to get links to all the other bloggy participants. You know you need to absorb their knowledge too, right?

Sometimes our kids really ARE smarter than we are

From the first day of school, Annie has been coming home with stories about Sammy. He seemed a bit ornery, that Sammy. Impulsive, always getting into little jams, and earning the not-so-distinguished honor of being the first child in Ms. Kristen’s room to lose their green light. I don’t know why, but somehow I’ve always envisioned little Sammy as high-spirited rather than naughty. (Possibly because I hope that’s how people will view Catie when she gets to school!)

Yesterday Annie’s Sammy story was sad. He told Evelyn that he would not be her friend because he does not like her. Seeing as how Annie and Evelyn have been BFFs since they met last week, this did not suit Annie very well. She said that Evelyn started to cry, and she told her not to be sad because she loved her and she was her bestest friend in the whole world. She said that cheered her up a little, but Annie was still concerned about the whole situation. Over dinner last night she asked me what she should do when something like that happened.

I wasn’t really sure what to say. In my head I admit to thinking ‘Kick him’, but it was very fleeting and only slightly serious. I told her that in my experience, people who say mean things usually do it because they are hurting on the inside. And that while I don’t always know the right things to say, I try to remember that and treat them with love. She didn’t say very much after that, but when she said her prayers last night she prayed that Evelyn would be strong and not have her feelings hurt, and that Sammy would learn nice words to say. I kissed her and told her that was sweet. As I started to leave the room, Annie told me that she figured out what to say to Sammy if he says bad things again.

“Oh yeah baby, what’s that?”

“Jesus love you Sammy, and so do I.”

Yet again this child, this amazing child, has humbled me. What else could one possibly say that would be any better?

One of my biggest fears about Annie going to school was situations just like this. Everything in her world has been sunshine and roses, and I’d like to keep it pristine for as long as possible. I’m sad that this sort of thing is already happening in the second week of Kindergarten. But I am so encouraged by my daughter’s response to it.

I think every parent believes that their child will change the world – someday. Last night was the first time I realized that my little girl was already out there doing it.

So last night, and again today, every time I think of them I am praying for Sammy and for Annie. And if you can spare a moment or two, I’d love for you to do so as well. Annie asked me last night if I prayed for her while she was at school and I said yes.

“Well then could you say two prayers tomorrow? Because I’m kind of nervous.”

“Absolutely baby. And remember that God is always with you, ok?”

My little kindergarten missionary. I couldn’t be more proud of her.

So 2 years from now I should be doing great

You’ll have to forgive my neglect of this little blogging endeavor. You see, I made myself a promise a couple weeks ago, and staying off of the computer was a big part of it. The last month + has been non-stop fun and games at our house. Not only were we blessed with a visit from the very popular Cousin Erin and Aunt Beth, but we’ve also been having a countdown of sorts. And it all ended today. Today, you see, is a big day here. Today is Annie’s first day of school.

For those who don’t talk to me every day this probably comes as a surprise. The plan was to homeschool, and homeschool we did last year. My little girl already knew all of her letters and numbers and sounds, and teaching her to read was fun and surprisingly easy. Watching her math abilities grow was amazing (I never thought I’d be able to say that about a child of mine!). Exploring new concepts together was one of the most rewarding things I’ve ever done with her.
But unfortunately, trying to do all of this while also nurturing her two little sisters was more than I could handle. Either Annie’s day was scattered and unstructured, or her sisters spent too much time in front of the TV alone while I worked with Annie. Either way, it wasn’t as it should be.

Which brings us to this summer – our last days of unadulterated fun. I promised myself that I would treasure every moment. That I would not tell her “Not now” or “Maybe later” – that I would get my priorities straight for once, housework and sewing and everything else be darned. And enjoy her I did. But sadly all good things must come to an end…which brings us to present day.

Being what I hope is a good mom, I have been very careful not to mention to Annie how emotionally devestated I am by her growing up. We’ve talked about all of the fun things she will do, the friends she will make, the lessons she will learn. And my little social butterfly is going to love it. I’ve properly bit my tongue and encouraged her. And so yesterday we had this little ‘Going to School’ party:

Annie chose Corn Dogs, homemade potato chips and dip, carrots and grapes, and cheese sticks.

Aren’t her little school bus decorations cute? She’s so proud of her newest art subject.

Pappap and Grama joined us for lunch.

And Annie got lots of new Hannah Montana goodies for school. We also gave her the gold cross necklace below, to help remind her that God is always with her, even when we aren’t.

Could she BE any cuter? She picked the shoes herself, to be cool like her (21-year-old) cousin Haddie.

Just outside the school:

You can’t really see it, but the tag hanging down is a luggage tag with family pictures in it.

And here she is with Ms. Kristen, who so far seems pretty wonderful:

I walked out of the room just moments after the above picture was taken. I gave my girl a hug, wished her a good day, and looked back from the doorway to see her opening her pink Play-Doh and talking to her tablemate Savannah. I blinked back tears all through the hall, but of course there were dozens of other excited kids and nervous moms nearby, so I couldn’t cry yet. And when I got to the car, wouldn’t you just know that I was surrounded by other first-day kids. Of course I can’t cry there. So I had to leave, and pray that I didn’t wreck the van on the way home because I was crying so hard I couldn’t see.

I’d like to say that my day got better from there, but it didn’t. I cried off and on all day long, made worse by the flu-like illness I seem to have developed yesterday. I know it’s hard for all mothers to watch their babies grow up. Perhaps especially so for stay-at-home moms like myself, who have never had daycare or babysitters or pre-school to soften the blow. There was no easing into this one. Yesterday she was all mine, and today, and everyday for the rest of her life, she spends half her time with strangers. My heart is aching – I feel like a piece of me is missing. And of course it is – a very special, very important part.

This isn’t just any kid. This is the little girl who believes that the Little Einsteins are real, because she met them in Disney World. The girl who gets $5 a week in allowance and saves every penny of it, and just last Sunday voluntarily took out $40 of her Disney money to donate to the church building fund. The daughter who, when she watched me put on makeup last month pointed out that it doesn’t matter what we look like, it’s what’s on the inside that counts. I was so touched. “I know baby, you are so right,” I said as I wiped my eyes and dusted powder on my nose. She looked at me for just a moment. “Then Mom,” she replied, “Stop doing that. God doesn’t care what you look like, and neither do we.”

How can a child so small be so wise? So kind? So completely selfless? And how long can that last now that she is OUT THERE in the cold hard real world? How long before a kid tells her that the Little Einsteins are just costumes, or that she is anything less than incredibly beautiful? How long before both of our hearts are broken by the cruelty that exists in childhood?

So today was the day that I had to finally face all of those fears, pray for God’s blessing and protection over her, and watch my baby walk away on her own. I know it probably sounds melodramatic to those of you who aren’t mothers, or haven’t gone through this yet. But just as sure as I feel this loss, I know that millions of other mothers are feeling it too. And I’m sad to realize that it won’t ever go away. This is it – she’ll never come back. She’ll never again be my little baby – we’ll never again get those five-and-a-half glorious, uninterrupted years of togetherness.

I’m excited for her, don’t get me wrong. I know she’ll love it, and I know there are great things to look forward to as she grows up. But today has been far from great in this mother’s book.

And now you’ll have to excuse me. It’s almost 2 and I need to dry my eyes and pick up my missing piece. Tonight will be better.

PS) The title is derived from this handy-dandy little heartbreak calculator. Seems that, yes indeed, you really can Google anything. If your heart is broken (and I sincerely hope it isn’t), you can figure out when you’ll be on the mend here.