Kindergarten. Check.

Its taken me a while to write about this- the end of Kindergarten. I was so emotional at the start of kindergarten- but I didn't know the full story then. That H would finish kindergarten and that I would find myself equally raw emotioned about that- watching H become even more of herself. H has so much more growing to do- shes doing it so well, I am so proud of her- but what a free fall this growing up is. My heart swells with pride until it aches- I realize I am helpless and along for the ride. I am so proud of my bigger girl and can't wait to see her transformations but can't help clutching her at every step of the way and wanting to bottle her at each moment and keep her forever.

Priorities

What S brought home from school last week.

The query

This morning, while adjusting the fractured driver side mirror on my car with duct tape, I thought, everything is just falling apart.

I went to meeting for worship at H's school this morning- the whole school gathers every Thursday for 1/2 an hour for Quaker meeting. I usually can't go because on Thursdays I rush to S's school after dropping off H. Today J took S to school so I could go to meeting. Today was the kindergartens turn to do the query, (the Quakers use the term 'query' to refer to a question or series of questions used for reflection and in spiritual exercises. Thanks, wikipedia, for those words)

Each kindergartner stood and said what they were thankful for. H was thankful for her friends. They went down the line, each standing and saying what they were thankful for- the earth, mom and dad, their teachers, the turkey. When they were done, one of H's classmates stood and invited everyone to share what they were thankful for. One by one, kids of all ages stood and said what they were thankful for.

I'm thankful for my mom
I'm thankful for spiders
I'm thankful for DNA
I'm thankful for food
I'm thankful for my teachers.

One girl stood and said "I am thankful I have everything that I need."
The cynical side of me I work so hard to keep muzzled broke out- " yeah? How do you know what you need? Your a kid!" I got it releashed, punished it for breaking out and remembered that I have everything I need too. And duct tape to fix the rest. I am thankful to that girl for reminding me.

Yes, everything is still falling apart. I wake up overwhelmed. I go to bed overwhelmed. Everyday feels like a race, and I know there will be tasks that are benched until tomorrows game. I am trying to be ok with the possibility (probability) that it won't all get done.

Thank you, kindergarten, I will remember to be thankful.

Big dummy

In the car on the way to school yesterday, H was talking about all the things she'd do at school that day. Art, Music, nature walk.
I said, "I wish I were going to school. I love school"
H said, "How do you know if you never tried it?"

The train has left the station

I nearly cried for the loss of my mind this morning. I should have cried- but I was trying to focus.

I am developing some kind of amnesia. Take this blog for instance. What blog?

My sister texted me moments ago, "um.. you need to update your blog."
I have been thinking of things I want to write, pictures I want to post, as I run around a la chicken with no head. I must recollect my head, and stop scurrying. I will walk calmly from place to place with my head attached. And that will solve everything.

So, about that amnesia.

Yesterday morning, J took H to school so that S, who also had school, wouldn't have to wake up so early to sit in the car for an hour. I unlocked my car so he could get H's car seat out and off they went. About an hour later, I set out to take S to school. I couldn't find my car keys anywhere. I planned to meet a friend for breakfast after dropping S off, her daughter is in the same class. At 8:30, when we the girls should be at school already, I called her to say, no I wasn't canceling, but that I couldn't find my monkey flipping keys and therefore was running a bit late. She, who knows me better than I thought, I guess, told me she was coming to pick S and I up. At breakfast, I remembered I had taken S up to her room as soon and J and H had left. As soon as my friend dropped me off, and made me promise to let her know if I still couldn't find my keys at pick up time, I found the keys in S's room. I had looked everywhere else, including the freezer.

Today, I remembered at 11:15 that I signed S up for a gymnastics class that started today, at 11. We bolted down there, enjoyed the last 20 minutes of class. It was time to head home and I had barely caught the breath it took to get there.

On the way out the door to H's school this morning, S took a bite of a granola bar and choked after yelling at Tamayo to leave her cereal alone (he was no where near it) I thudded her back and did some weird hymlec motion. Now I am determined to sign up for a CPR/kid safety class that I will undoubtedly forget I signed up for.

The commute

I haven't had a commute farther than a staircase in about 10 years. When I did commute outside of my house, it was via the L train, or sometimes the J- which has its issues believe me, but while less comfortable that a driving commute- being packed in a subway car like a sardine, and me with my nose at armpit height- at least you could check out mentally. Now I have a driving commute, and obviously I need to pay attention. If everyone is as tired and as in need of that 2nd or third cup of coffee as I am in the morning, its a miracle any of us reach our destination.

This is the second week of driving H to school- I am getting used to it, but am kind of amazed at how much time it eats up. For instance, J drove H to school today, and look! Here I am- its been a while and I've been writing posts in my head during the commute to kindergarten. A clarvoynat blog peppered with salty thoughts toward some of my fellow drivers.

I drive H to school- (I should point out here that its only 20 minutes away, its just that her pre-K was 5 minutes down the road. Its all relative.) because the city I live in doesn't bus kindergardeners. Well, thats what I say, but the truth is I don't think I'd put her on the bus yet anyway. I am going to learn to love the commute. It seems to be a good place to interogate her about her day.

School girls

And breathing out... almost.
The girls we very kind to me and didn't cry, or even resist going to school this morning. The slightest hesitation from either of them may have sent me sobbing. H couldn't usher us out the door faster- J and I kind of stood there feeling unnecessary for a bit. S, who I expected to resist her new class or school in general was fine after about three minutes of holding the shoulder of my shirt with white knuckles.

I wasn't alone as I had booked J for a breakfast date- and then I still wasn't alone after he had to go back to work because I had the company of the plumber I had to call to come replace our hot water heater which decided today was a fine day to go. What with all the attention focused on going to school surly know one would notice that the poor underappreciated hot water heater just couldn't take it anymore.

Now is when it feels weird to not have H here- I have picked up S from her school, where I'm told she had a great day, and smiled even. That "she doesn't talk much, but she sings a lot." Tomorrow will seem stranger, I'm sure.

On the ride home, S said with a big grin, "I love school" She loves a lot of things these days- her new favorite phrase.

Kindergarten, for me, is not all the way sunken in yet- but I am very proud of my big girl who makes friends easier than I ever have, who is undaunted by the new and different. I am hoping she remembers to tell me everything (when I said this to her last night, she rolled her eyes and sighed "but WHO will remind me?") I will. I will remind you.

T minus 1

Kindergarten tomorrow. We are getting better at being up early, but not ready early. Although I haven't attempted that yet- who wants to be up and ready to walk out the door at 7:30 when you have nowhere to go? I have been good at getting the girls to bed early, but do you think I can get myself to bed at a decent time? No. Every morning I have a little chat with myself about how I must go to bed before midnight- but every night I just need to get one more thing done...

H is excited- but is having some anxiety about kindergarten. Well, I hope thats the reason she's become an insane tantruming freak. The other night at dinner when she didn't want to eat what I made- she threw herself from the table, with a raging "I QUIT!" and stormed out of the room while J and I turned blue in our attempts to not laugh. She's been picking and poking at all of us and then bursting into tears when we say ouch quit it. Last night she asked to sing the alphabet song at bed time.

S is starting school tomorrow too, although her 2 mornings a week are getting overshadowed a bit by H's full day full time school. I am feeling her starting too- although I reacted to her school starting when she started in the summer. I'm hoping she'll be ok with staying now that she's had a taste of school, although on her last day in the summer she was luke warm at best with the idea.

We'll see what tomorrow brings. Besides me dropping off the kids wearing giant sunglasses while biting my lip.

To be big or to be not so big

I need a new theme. But I can't muster one yet- so its this theme or no theme. My girls are getting big. How could that be, oh master of the obvious? Its confounding. Astounding. I must awknowlegde the big. This is my 12 step program to kindergarten. Where they, or at least H, will be officially BIG. School bound, never looking back, cutting the apron strings big. This is where I need to reel myself in a bit- remind myself that this is what they, the kids, are supposed to do, this is what I did.

Then again, I just had a conversation with H about picking her nose and eating the bounty on her finger. "you must stop that, its gross!" I said, my face convulsing in disgust. "no its not", she says "taste it." Maybe not so big after all.

I had a history teacher in highschool, whose name excapes me, that was obsessed with mucous. All of his jokes were nose picking jokes. In fact, if you pointed out that he was obsessed with nosepicking jokes, he'd say, "that's snot true!" and crack himself up.

So I guess big is relative.

Question for today

Will I be able to send H off to kindergarten without getting a puppy?

I am on the way downstairs to pull out the girls chalkboard easel so I can begin writing 1,000 times 'I will not get a puppy' Except I don't think the easel is big enough to handle that.

I probably won't get a puppy yet. Suffice to say I am feeling the beginnings of being traumatized by kindergarten.

I am becoming very aware of little girls. I see them, size up their age- and think, "she's younger than H. Oh look, shes younger than H, too. I remember when H was that old..." and so on.

The summer is slamming shut. Fall and back to school are flinging open. Its here. Almost.

A tiger on a monkey's toe/ Backpack, backpack

Eenie meenie miney mo

catch a tiger on a monkey's toe

if he hollers on his toe

let. him. GO!

H has been saying this, her version, for a really long time. And she eenies often. I haven't corrected her- for one because I think less of the racist origins of this rhyme and have a surreal image of a monkey catching a tiger on his toe- also because my questioning authority has gotten out of hand and I say- who am I to correct it? There is no right way (except sometimes, of course there is.) I have heard people tell H their version, try to say it with her to get the monkey out and off the tigers toe- but she seems to prefer it her way- as do I.

***

H and S are having a parade through the house right now, wearing conductor hats- one authentic that came with a train set, the other, mine, a target special, which looks better on H than it does on me (but she can't have it!) and also makes her look alarmingly like a teenager (and thats not the only reason why!) H is shrieking "CHOO CHOO! The Animal express! We are the best of the BEST!" S is going along, chiming in with the song here and there. S has a goose egg bruise on her forehead from running on a paved path downhill and falling. Both H and S have their faces painted. They were painted by me, and I don't have the good stuff, so there are smears of face makeup and glitter all over. It is quite a parade.

Why are their faces painted? Why is S bruised? Why am I beat?

Insert a scooby doo wavey sequence. It all started back at the mansion when...

Last night, H started making her case for going to the zoo today. She seems to know how I am on Mondays- plan-less and unorganized, and she takes advantage. I said ok to the zoo- even though we also had no food in the house and a gazillion things to do. There are always a gazillion things to do. It was hot, and its always at least 80 degrees hotter at the zoo, so I threw out a casual 'hey do you want to go the arboretum instead?' Imagine my shock and awe when that was met with YAY!!! ARBORETUM!!! I asked 5 times, are you SURE you'd rather go to the arboretum? Than the zoo? Repeat after me 'I would rather go to the arboretum than the zoo and I do solemnly swear I will not expect to go to the zoo after lunch.'

Before our plans changed, I had already laid out the zoo rules, including that we were not going to get our faces painted. We have not ever had our faces painted at this particular zoo, but if we don't cover the rules and expectations before we're out the door things get crazy. I said (why?) that I would paint their faces when we got home if they wanted. If they wanted? What was I born yesterday?

After the arboretum, the goose egg fall, the trip to the store to replenish our supply of food, I spontaneously stopped at the Gap. I never shop at the Gap, but it was there. There was a sign about backpacks, and I have become backpack obsessed. I was panicking that we didn't have backpacks yet even though its not even August and I was sure they would all backpacks will be sold out of everywhere as I hem and haw and look for the backpack of MY dreams even though I am not the one going to kindergarten. I need a stand in backpack for now, incase of emergency, while I continue my search. Once inside the belly of the Gap, I fell into their trap of buying the backpack's matching/attaching lunchbox, I fell into their additional trap of applying for a store credit card to save an additional 20% (which combined with their sale got me one of the backpack lunch box combos for free. So there. I don't care if it was a trap.)

S had a dirty diaper and was all but taking it off in the store. H was doing jumping jacks and cartwheels in the roped off section of the line. This is the schmancy Gap, in the high falutin area I can hardly stand to frequent. Where all the kids match the parents. And me, with my motley, sweaty, sticky crew with big bruised on their heads and dirty knees from falling all over the arboretum. Me with my dress that S had been using as a tissue all day. Then I changed S's diaper, tailgate style in the parking lot.

We got home, finally, ate the popsicles that were promised to get us through the food shopping, fit in some trying to figure out payroll, printing out more forms that need to be filled and faxed, and painted glitter butterfly faces on the girls faces that were already sticky from mango popsicles. (I had forgot about the face painting promise.) H sighed and said "Mom- you are the best artist EVER. I love that you made up your own design." (yes, she really said that.) Then she went on and on and ON about how beautiful she felt with this grease paint on her face. My continual assurances that she was already beautiful went ignored- I think so far she believes that, that she's beautiful. Which of course she is- but how to keep her seeing it that way? I wish her never to doubt it.

Camp School

This is the picture that accompanies this post about S's first day at school. Or camp, as they call it here when its school in the summer. I have stubbornly refused to call it camp, (because its NOT camp! There are no tents! There is no insect repelant! There are no camp fires! There are no marshmallow sticks!) but I may have to give in. I am tired of the constant response "Camp?" when ever I say "school." The people are trying to train me. Maybe I'll start calling it camp during the school year. the camp year. That'll show em.

H trying to force a smile.

Must...keep...up...

This blog isn't the only thing suffering from my manic distraction of late.

I am trying to do too much. Its gotten to the point where the things I am doing half assed are looking good. Because there are way too many things that are getting a 16th of my ass. And that just isn't enough.

Today I forgot to send underwear with H to school for her to change into after water play (she goes to school in her bathing suit.) Her teacher, the good cop teacher, luckily for me, informed me today when I picked her up that H was not wearing any underwear, as I didn't send any AND she doesn't have a change of clothes at school like she's supposed to that I haven't sent in despite many reminders from the good cop teacher and the bad cop teacher.

I feel I don't have shorts to spare! I don't want any cute clothes to languish away in a plastic bag for just incase use, and I don't want to spend money on any ugly clothes to keep at school, so I just keep putting it off like everything else. Maybe when they send her home in a barrel with suspenders, and no underwear beneath- maybe then I'll send a change of clothes. AND H brought underwear downstairs for me to put in her backpack this morning- I didn't even tell her too. And I still forgot. Bad bad distracted Mommy.

And get this one: I hurried and scurried and borrowed from Peter to pay John, Paul, George AND Ringo to make sure I got a payment in on time for the no interest or finance charge credit card we have. Today I saw on the caller ID that the credit card company had called. Thats strange, I thought. Upon further investigation I discovered I had made the payment to the wrong credit card.

I called the credit card company, heard an automated amount I now owe, due to my non payment, over the limit, back charges and general negligence. Managed to not pass out. Got a really nice guy named Ross on the phone. Initially, he had some attitude since I couldn't remember my password. "Its a pet's name" he groaned. "Do you know how many pets I have?!" I yelled at him. He was nice enough to help me reset my password "How about your mothers maiden name, he says.. that doesn't change" Yeah, fine Ross. Think you have it all figured out. I told him I paid the wrong credit card. He thinks they can fix this mess, but I have to call back tomorrow, after they post the payment I made.

And those are just the things I know I've screwed up. There are so many more waiting in the wings. Gotta love a surprise.

Lost. One mind. Reward.

I have officially and completely lost my mind. It started, or rather the sanity ended, after I dropped S off at school today to her "I...WAAAANNNT....MOOOMMMEEEEEE.. " wails that continued through the building while I walked upstairs to drop H off at her class, and then continued still as I walked back down the stairs, thankfully out of view, and around the corner to the parking lot. I have been fighting the urge to call and ask if shes stopped crying, because if they tell me she hasn't I'm not sure what will happen but am pretty sure it will involve my stomach being flipped inside out.

I decided to go grocery shopping. I mentioned in an earlier post how this was against my new rules of how time should be spent while the girls are in school. I may have to edit the rules as I keep breaking this one. I have also mentioned in earlier posts how much I abhor grocery shopping with my children, S in particular. Like here. But today, I felt lost. I watched all the moms (and all the nannies) with their kids, shopping at Trader Joes- the girls were all in pretty dresses. They were all calm. Lovely. Helpful. I missed my girls, both of them, but especially the little one who I am not used to leaving, or doing anything with out. It is not until right now, as I'm writing this, that I realize that if S was with me, she would not be sitting pretty in her dress while we shopped. Well, she'd look cute as hell, but she'd be rampaging about something. Throwing herself out of the cart. On to the floor. Banging her pretty little head. The patrons would have tsked and given me those looks that I hardly notice anymore. I would have left unfinished and frazzled. But somehow, despite all this, I really wished she were there. And that is why I have lost my mind.

S. School. Tomorrow

S starts school tomorrow. Monkey can't come. I know its going to be good for her- but its kind of making me nauseous right now. Its just 3 hours. Its just 2 days. She made me pull my hair out all the live long day today. Must go fret about it and try not to. My baby.

No school and happy accidents

Lets see how today goes. After the first day of no school for H I admit I panicked and was millimeters away from calling the director of the school and seeing if they had room for H and S to start summer school two weeks early, as in tomorrow. I am kind of ashamed by this. I purposely skipped the first session of summer school to give H a break from school. She doesn't want a break from school, in many ways summer school is a break as it is 2 mornings as opposed to the 5 she's (we're) used to. I need those two weeks before I send S to school, though. This right here is the problem, the inflexibility of my mind. To go from school to no school. Jolt. To go to no school ever for S to 2 mornings a week where I won't see her every move. Jolt. I need to figure out a way to get some springs in my head to ease these transitions.
I am attempting to reframe- do things these weeks that I always wish we could during the school year. Remind myself that next year H will be in kindergarten which is all day.

H just asked me to draw a picture of curious George to give to her favorite teacher, who she won't be seeing again until the fall, maybe, and that will be randomly. I have explained this a million times if I've explained it once. I drew Curious George, and before i could figure out what didn't look right about it, H exclaimed "Curious George doesn't have a TAIL!" Well, no, I guess he doesn't. What kind of monkey doesn't have a tail? H sighed and said she'd cut him out so no one could see my mistake. This reminded me of Bill Zeman's hilarious blog, Tiny Art Director. I came across it last night and am still laughing.

H is generally pretty forgiving of my drawings- thus far. I'm always telling her to incorporate her 'mistakes' in her drawings. If she slips with her marker and yells that she has ruined her picture, I'm there to tell her its not ruined, just that now the clouds have lightning, or the giraffes have spikes. Last night we went out to dinner and she spilled some salsa onto the place mat she was drawing on- she was getting amped up that her drawing was NOT THE WAY SHE WANTS IT, when J told her to make it part of her picture. I had to laugh. This is going to be the kind of those parental things she makes fun of, I know it.

Flowers

It's the first morning of the summer schedule and I'm a bit lost. We wouldn't have even been on our way to school yet and already I'm wondering what we'll do today. My hope springs eternal and I still think I'll be able to sleep in a bit on days like this. What ends up happening though is I don't sleep in, in fact I sleep out as S always wakes up even earlier on days we don't have to be anywhere in the morning. I need to wake her up to get places. Thats how she rolls. What ends up happening is that I wake up earlier than usual and I don't shower.

H's preschool ceremony last night was great. The bittersweetness expected from the last day of a school with kids I've watched grow into their personalities for the last 3 years. The slide show brought everybody to tears, and it was wonderful watching all the kids be excited to see themselves and their classmates. What really got to me though was the last minute scramble outside to pick flowers from the garden to give to Hannah after the ceremony. I wanted them to be a surprise which translated into me crawling through the muddy yard while everyone else was in the car waiting to go. I was all of a sudden struck with awe that I was doing this for H. Mainly because I have done this for nearly everyone I know at some point or another. It made me think of H as grown up, that I was picking secret flowers for her. That was the part that nearly made me cry.

* I am as ready for June to stop being so mopey as I imagine anyone reading this is. July. July will be my glass half full.

Cookies

Today is H's last day of pre-K. She'll be going to school a couple days a week through the summer, I think the part that will really get to me is the last time she goes to the school. She's been going there for 3 years, it was her first school experience and it was a great one. Its her last day with her favorite teacher who moved up with the class last year. I loved H having a teacher who knew her so well. There is a moving up ceremony for her class tonight. I have tissues and won't wear mascara.

The parents in H's pre-K class all chipped in to get each of the three teachers they have a sizable gift card, in an attempt to spare us all from the coffee cups and scented candles. I wanted to do something for the teachers that H could be a part of and was at a loss for what. Finally yesterday I decided to make them each a big cookie. H and I made heart shaped cookies, and I wrote each teachers name on the cookie and 'Love, H'. I was very pleased with myself for getting these done before midnight. I put the cookies on a rack, put the rack inside the microwave. This is something I bring with me from my childhood. Any food of importance that doesn't go in the refrigerator must be stored in the microwave to protect it from dogs. My mother to this day not only stores food in her microwave, but also in her oven. And in her dryer, but I'm not that bad.

J worked late last night- he came home and went to heat up some dinner. He asked if he should put the cookies back in the microwave, or would that make them smell like the dinner he just heated up. "Just leave them on the counter" I said. He worried aloud that the dogs would get them. "Not while I'm right here", I said. The dogs would totally have a keg party and trash the house while we were away, but they are honor roll when we're home. Or at least they were.

Let me interject here to say that my dogs are on a diet, and S shares her food with them all the time. The combination of these things has made two previously well behaved dogs complete scoundrels around food. Ruby in particular had a giant sweet tooth and loves the carbs.

J went to the kitchen to put his plate in the dishwasher- he paused. I felt him stop more than I saw him. Then I heard "Oh Bec. You're going to kill her." Ruby had taken a tiny bite out of one of the teacher's cookies. A nibble, which actually showed great restraint on her part, but I didn't care about that at the time. I haven't been so angry in a long time. I exploded. Through the roof. I channeled my tantruming 2 year old. I hurt my feet from stomping. The dogs slunk upstairs and didn't come down for a while.

J was valiant in his attempts to save the cookie. He suggested I cut bite marks in each one, "that could be our gimmick!" He even cut a bite mark out of the bitten cookie with a steak knife- which made me laugh, and let me tell you- to have made me laugh last night, thats some powerful stuff.

I re made the cookie. And some spares, this time. I was finished about midnight. As per usual.

Dark and strawberries

My house is so dark. I love my house, except that its dark and the fact that it has one airline sized bathroom. The darkness is getting to me, though. We thought about moving- mainly to be in a better school district, but then we jumped off the private school plank and moving took a back seat. I hated the idea of leaving this house anyway, although mostly it was because of the garden and the street itself. The darkness makes me reconsider. Every night at bath time when I have to ask the girls to move to the side of the tub where I can reach them- I reconsider then, too. My eyes have always been sensitive to light, but I think they've gotten more so from living in darkness. I am feeling like a cave dweller.

We came out of the darkness yesterday to attend H's school to be's yearly fund raiser- which takes place in the form of a strawberry festival. I have been to this event for the last 4 years, which is kind of strange come to think of it. It is fun. You can feel the love- its very kumbaya, but it a good way. This years strawberry festival was the first one I've attended where I knew a lot of people, and felt a part of the love instead of just a spectator. Chalk one up for the no doubt this is the right school column. Actually, the only thing that isn't in that column is the big heavy can we really afford this?

We were accompanied to the festival by 2 grandmothers and a grandfather, so the girls made out. T-shirts, rag dolls. One with purple hair for H, pink hair for S. H decided to name her doll Dolly, and asked what her last name should be. Llama, I answered. Groans and raised eyebrows from J. I have to amuse myself and what is more amusing that a five year old yelling around the house "DOLLY LLAMA! Where are you?"

Pre-K and the code of silence

J and I went to H's kindergarten orientation last night. Its all getting a little too real, this kindergarten thing. I know it will be great, I know H will be fine. I know H will be fine before I am fine, but I guess thats how it goes.

I have taken to calling the school where H goes to pre-school the cosa nostra. It is comically hard to figure out small details, like, oh, I don't know- what class your child is in? What teacher they have? On H's first day of school, I didn't know what class she was in, or even where the classrooms were. I didn't know who worked at the school, and had to pull someone aside, who I think was a parent judging from the fact that they were only slightly less clueless than I was, to ask where I should be going.

I found a classroom, saw that H wasn't on that class list and tried another and another until I found the right one. I met her teachers for the first time that day, and didn't get to know them any better until back to school night which was a few weeks later. S starts school at the cosa nostra in a few weeks. I'm not sure what class she'll be in, or who will be teaching the class, but now I am a part of the familia. I know who to ask, I know where the classrooms are. I know the procedure. The procedure is just come here long enough and you'll know. People aren't trying to be difficult, for the most part, its just that they assume you know, because they think probably your mom or your grandmom told you. What? They didn't go to pre-K at this school? Where are you from anyway? We've lived in our house for 9 years. A few years ago a neighbor at the other end of the street came up to me and said "You're the new people, right?" I said "no, we've been here for 6 years." "Yeah", she said. "The new people."

So, imagine my shock and awe when J and I go to this kindergarten orientation and receive a folder with a class list, a calendar for next year. All kinds of forms all in the same place. Then we actually met the kindergarten teacher. AND the parents of the kids who will be in the class. 4 months before school starts. Actually, the fact that there was an orientation at all threw me off course. I received a letter from the school about a month ago. The beginning of the letter said something about meeting your mentor family, and everything else stopped- I think I actually heard the needle sliding off the record. Mentor family? I missed the important part of the letter, which even said, in these very words, to write May 27th on your calender. Its a very important orientation meeting where we will answer all your questions... It said to RSVP. I didn't. I forgot. I am making a hell of a first impression. I had to be reminded by the director of the school that perhaps I should show up.

At least we didn't miss the very important orientation meeting. I have my hand over my heart as I swear not to block out any more important information just because kindergarten scares me.