MY FIRST BAR MITZVAH

Last weekend we attended a bar mitzvah for a girlfriend's thirteen year old son, Mac.   I was blessed to have taught many Jewish children throughout my time as a kindergarten teacher. From these beautiful experiences, I have a heartfelt connection with Judaism and the inspiring stories of Rosh Hashanah, Hanukkah and Passover.  However, this was was my first bar mitzvah.  

We arrived at the synagogue a few minutes late.  As we walked through the doors, there was a cute older gentleman putting on his yarmulke.  The doors were closed and the service had started.  We exchanged smiles and then he noticed that we were a little hesitant to enter into the service, and he asked if we needed any help. We told him this was our first time attending a bar mitzvah.  He then asked to see our seating assignment.  I immediately reached for my purse and then realized the invitation was in the car.  “Oh no, you didn’t bring the invitation?” he asked.  After pausing and reveling quietly at what was the panicked look on my face -- pure and utter confusion -- he smiled laughed and said he was kidding.  He motioned for us to go through the doors.  Luckily, there was a few empty spaces right where we walked in. 

We took a seat and took it all in.  The synagogue was gorgeous.  It was charming.  There were simple touches of gold throughout.  There were two women leading the ceremony.  One appeared in charge switching between English and Hebrew.  I assumed she was the rabbi; the other woman played her guitar and sang in accompaniment.  The 13-year old star of the ceremony, Mac, sat behind the rabbi.  He was dressed in a suit with a white shawl over his shoulders.  He looked and acted so much older than thirteen – the launch point of being a man was playing out in front of him.  As he recited the Torah with his parents and siblings next to him, I was moved by the strong emotions of pride I felt for him and his family, especially his mom as she is the one I could most relate to.  Her strength and light radiated upon her family.  Tears filled my eyes as I watched, proud to call her my friend.

Towards the end of the ceremony, the rabbi instructed us to take a piece of candy as it came around, and even though it seemed delayed gratification, we were to wait until she said "Mazol Tav" before we could do anything with them.  OK, I can do that.  


Because I have a sweet tooth, I leaned over to my husband and requested he get two for me.  He smiled and rolled his eyes.  The candy was passed to us.  And since we were at the end of the pew, I somehow ended up with two.  SCORE!  The universe was listening!  I slid the red one in my purse, thinking I would save it for later, or maybe even bring it home for O.  I opened up the orange Sunkist chewy and waited.   The rabbi continued as I got lost in the thought of the soft sugary jelly candy I was about to take in.  My mouth was watering and it wasn't even for chocolate.  

She sang some words and then said, "Mazol Tav!" I immediately put the candy in my mouth and closed my eyes.  When I opened my eyes, I realized that everyone was throwing theirs at Mac.  Wait, they are THROWING the candy.  It’s for Mac, not the guests?  Do I spit my candy out and throw it?  No, I can't do that.  Wait, where's my second one?  I picked up the red one and threw it towards Mac.  It was late.  So late it was like clapping after others have finished – or a late hit like the ones laid on the Bear’s, Jake Cutler, my husband told me later.  Oh well, at least it was in the wrapper.  


I smiled.  I then leaned over and told my husband what I did.  He giggled.  I giggled.  We giggled.  Later, I was told that this part of the ceremony is where we "shower the boy with sweetness".  All I can say is thank goodness I was given two.  The universe has a plan and just when one thinks the safety net won't be there, it appears.

I really enjoyed the Bar Mitzvah.  It was a ceremony celebrating family and friends.  Mac performed like a champ.  Every teenager should be celebrated like this.  Why in fact, I'm even considering contacting a rabbi this week to discuss converting.  After all, when I was 13 all I usually got was grounded.  Mac is grounded in a different way – the good way.  I can bet that Mac would have held the candy.  After yesterday’s discussion with O on the black and white, gray area of rules, she probably would have as well.  


When we got in the car,  I made the connection that this new experience is much like O's first day of kindergarten on the bus.  No seating assignment, seems like the majority of kids and adults know exactly what they are doing except for me, and then there's the funny guy...

On our way to the party at a posh hotel in Georgetown, I texted my girlfriend:
BAR MITZVAH ROCKED, KINDERGARTEN SUCKS!

Brittany Spears and Toilet Paper

O came home yesterday and said, "Oh, I almost forgot to tell you."  So with the biggest eyes and much animation, she informed me of the incident that occurred at school.  

Her class and classroom teachers somehow came to find two boys being led out of the boys bathroom in the clenched fists of the vice principal.  I envisioned a scene from my childhood of two boys being carried to the principals office by the backs of their shirts; feet scrambling to try and touch the floor.  O explained the boys had thrown toilet paper everywhere and completely trashed the boys bathroom.  She then said they went to the principal's office and afterwards they were sent back to clean it up, and got in SO much trouble.  She added that they probably were sent home. 

"Mmmmm...wasn't it just the other night that you and your friends threw Toilet paper all over our house?   Mmmmm....and wasn't it just the other night that when I asked what you were doing you said you were making "butt trails"???  Mmmmm..."

Laughter erupted.  "Oh yeah.  I guess we did.  But mommy, I would NEVER do it at school."  I was glad to hear that.  There are certain words and actions that one can do and say in the comfort of their own home, and not in other places. 

O has learned a lot about rules this year.  Rules make children feel safe.  They are needed boundaries set by those that love them.  Every once in a while rules are broken; like when Brittany Spears lets her child ride in the front seat of the car on her lap.  However, the paparazzi, principals, bus drivers, and parents all reinforce the obvious.  We are their models.  They watch and observe and listen to us daily.  Brittany Spears, on the other hand, is just another dimwit who can dance, but certainly can't sing. 

When I was a kindergarten teacher and I observed someone not being safe or not feeling safe, I would say "Our principal hired me and JJ (my co-teacher) to ensure you are all safe.  You can help us do our job by letting us know when you don't feel safe and we will let you know when you are not being safe.  This is because anyone who is doing something unsafe is causing someone else to feel unsafe."

As a parent, I don't have JJ there every day and I'm not hired by a principal to be a mom.  That said, it's now my job as a mother to keep O safe with loving boundaries.  As a parent, bending the rules every once in awhile for "butt trails" allows for lessons and encourages understanding that there is always gray when there is also black and white.

So as parents we learn to lean on each other, drink wine and watch our children grow wise making "butt trails".  All the while toasting, "Kindergarten SUCKS".

The Word NO!

While we were leaving a neighborhood party, two women cornered me asking me to consider a volunteer position outside the school, but related to student activities.      "Awe!  That's such a compliment.  Thank you.  I will think about it," I said.  I then remember realizing what just happened and running home without looking back.  


When my husband got home, I said in a very loud and high pitched voice, "I don't want to do this and you can't make me".  He assured me he wouldn't and that all I had to say was no.  He almost BEGGED me to say no.  This likely stems from the fact that I tend to get VERY involved when leading something and that I am fastidiously organized – a trait my husband associates as almost a sin; good from a professional standpoint, but maybe not in more informal endeavors.  I have to agree.  I am sure my husband was probably recalling vivid memories of our wedding plan (well, my plan).  And yes, they weren’t “plans”, it was A plan complete with processes, timelines, ownership responsibilities and metrics – or as my husband still calls it, the infamous “Yoko list” (currently in hardcopy binder and electronic form; come to think of it, I should mass market and sell it as the bible of nuptial planning strategies and tactics).   


Ok, back to the issue at hand.  My husband said that all I have to say is no.  Oh that's right, NO!  That simple little word.  I can say no.  Why in fact, I used to be really good at it.  


When I was a toddler, NO was one of my first words.


When I was in Kindergarten, I said NO to coordinated outfits.


When I was ten, I said NO when I didn't want to clean my room.


When I was a teenager, I said NO to a curfew.


When I was in college, I said NO to a budget.


When I was a flight attendant, I said NO to drunk people (and pilots).


When I was a kindergarten teacher, I said NO in a positive, constructive way.

And now that I'm a mom, why do I feel awful for saying NO? 


More ashamedly, though, I am prone to issue a few too many "What the F@#%" outbursts during moments of frustration or periodic dilemmas  (think difficult wine cork). 


As you can imagine, one such "What the F@#% … do I dos" popped out in this conversation with my husband.  I am flattered they thought of me, but I would rather not be in that position just now.   I will volunteer over and over on individual days, but I just don’t want to run something long-term at this juncture.  At the same time,  I do appreciate the offer. It was sweet and offered in friendship to someone new in the school community. 


I then thought of my sweet little innocent O and a term she coined earlier this year.  While initially shocked and forced to address, and then to eliminate, the term from her vocabulary, I actually like it better than “What the F@#” (again, for me not her).  


During the summer, I was getting our beach bag packed in North Carolina and O shouted at our dog Wally, "F@#% ON, Wally!  F@#% ON!" For the life of me, I couldn't figure out what she meant by it.  Furthermore, I told her Wally might not know what she means and surely there was a better choice of words to use.


Then she challenged me like a high school debate champ.  She explained that Wally needed to wait until we got to the beach to play with the ball in the bucket that she was holding, and then she said it again.  "F@#% ON, Wally!”   She then looked at me like a teacher to a student and said, "You see mommy, you say "What the F@#%" when you are frustrated and don’t know what to do.  BUT I KNOW EXACTLY WHAT I WANT TO DO and I am just trying to get Wally to understand.”  I instantly thought, “what clarity!”  Though it was necessary, I actually felt a little bad having to still explain that there were still much more appropriate words to convey the same message. 


The other day at "back to school night" at O's school, I ran into both woman again and they again inquired about my interest in the position. Like O, I knew exactly what I wanted, or did not want in this case, but O’s words "F@#% ON" were all that came to mind along with the hope that these women would understand it’s just not the right thing for me now.


After a brief pause, I politely declined using more appropriate and appreciative words, knowing full well there was a better way to “convey the same message.” I thanked them for their kind consideration of me, someone they had just met who were gracious enough to include me in something as a new parent coming into the school.  


Ultimately, I guess it’s true that in trying to teach our children we often end up teaching ourselves (not sure if that is from the philosopher Kierkegaard or Dick Van Patten’s character, Tom Bradford, from TV’s Eight is Enough, anyway).     


I then saw my husband across the hall at the school and joined him to head down to O’s classroom for the meet and greet.  On the way he asked me, “so, did you end up agreeing to take the position?"  I just looked at him, smiled and said “F@#% ON”.  A passerby looked back at me scornfully as those two little words spilled out loud.  Apparently, I still have a lot to learn, and for that reason, kindergarten SUCKS!

My Picky Eater's Lunch Notes

My daughter, O is a very picky eater.  I'm not certain how it all happened and I don’t ever question it, as I was the same growing up.  

In fact, one Thanksgiving dinner my very-picky-eater cousin and I excused ourselves from the table so we could go back to eating the rabbit food in the backyard.  Obviously, we did not care for turkey, mashed potatoes, string beans and sweet potatoes.  We were sixteen years old.  Not really, we were seven.  To this day, we still say, "Happy Rabbit Day" rather than "Happy Turkey Day".  Upon hearing me say this now, family members and guests generally assume that I just hit the “cups” a little early and simply tolerate me for the day. 

O is one of those kids who would eat the same thing for lunch all day, every day if she could.  Her favorite thing is pizza and her second favorite is macaroni and cheese.  So when it came to deciding if we would pack her lunch or let her eat/starve in the cafeteria lunch line every day, we chose packing her lunch.  It was only on back to school night that I was relieved to hear that it's probably been a good decision as those children who bring a bagged lunch have about five minutes longer to eat than those that don't.  

On the first day of school I worked hard to ensure everything was just right.  Since it's a cold lunch the pizza and mac and cheese were off the list of options.  She requested a turkey sandwich with colby cheese on her favorite potato loaf bread.  I wrote her a really sweet note with a cute drawing at the bus stop of our family and put it in her lunch box – the whole time wondering why I was doing this considering she can currently read three letter words or less (as such, the wine discussion is a ways off).  As a teacher, I didn't really think that through.  As a parent, I did what I assumed all the other parents did.  However, only two days later I began to question my notes.  

I decided to give her a three letter "lunch word" for the day and draw a picture underneath as a clue.   FUN, BUG, CUP and then I kicked it up a notch and decided to do a week of three letter words that rhyme, since rhyming is one of the fundamental steps in learning how to read.  So each week, I choose a three letter word on Monday and we rhyme it all through the week … BAT, CAT, RAT, FAT … FAN, RAN, CAN, PAN, MAN.  

When I was interviewing with the airlines to become a flight attendant years ago, a supervisor/friend of mine said never, ever answer any question without explaining how you will follow up.  So now when my husband asks something along the lines of “What were you thinking?’ I always follow-up.  Usually, this includes telling him to “shove up his %&@” (that three letter word will have to wait).  And following up with children can be challenging as well.  However, it's been fun following up with these notes.  O often gets off the bus and runs toward me yelling the "lunch word of the day".  Yesterday, the word was rat.  Boy, did I get some looks from the other parents.  If it doesn't come up in conversation on our walk home, I try to follow up by unpacking her lunch while she's eating her after school snack and telling me about her day.  She always smiles when I ask her about the word.    

If she wasn't a picky eater, I wouldn't have an opportunity to send her a little note.  For that I am thankful.  However, when I'm in a hurry in the morning to scribble a quick note, I really have to stop and think not only about a three letter word, but also about what rhymes with the one I wrote the day before.  DUH comes to mind too often and for that reason, Kindergarten SUCKS!

Curbside Kisses

SHE DID IT!  YAY!  YIPEE!  I WANT TO JUMP FOR JOY!  I WANT TO SING OUT LOUD!  I WANT TO SCREAM AT THE TOP OF MY LUNGS!  "GO LIL’ O!"    

It's not even the end of September and today, after saying our goodbyes at the curb, she boarded the bus all by herself.  WOW!  


We had talked it through with Mimi and Lina yesterday and there they were today sitting in the front row as requested by O.  As she boarded the bus, I heard them call her name.  The bus driver, Mr. Billy, and I smiled at each other and I stood on the curb and waved at her in the window.  She waved back with a big smile.  I gave her a thumbs up and the bus pulled away.  YES!  She did it!  

I walked in the door where my husband was waiting with a bottle of my favorite Pinot Noir.  I beamed with pride.  He corked it and we toasted her (actually with coffee).  "Here's to O and her curbside kisses.  Here's to all the many more challenges life will bring her way."  

Wait, more challenges?  I don't think I can take anymore, especially if they last a month-long like the bus adventure.  I have to restock the wine and medicine cabinets.  I need to reorganize and make the wine cabinet more spacious and the medicine cabinet big enough for the pills that help me breathe.  Or better yet, I will call our builder, Michael Sauri.  He can build a wine cellar in our basement.  I mean how will we ever be fully stocked for all the challenges she will face in this year let alone for the rest of her life?  "Kindergarten SUCKS!"

Punked in 13 minutes

Did you know it is school policy for the parents not to walk their children on the bus? Unfortunately, O and I found out the hard way--military style with a type A substitute bus driver. 


As I walk O on the bus this morning, I introduce myself to this "new to our route" bus driver and satirically comment that I am going to school today too.  In a stern voice he said, "NOT ON MY BUS, YOU'RE NOT!"  I smiled and said, "No, not really, I'm just walking her to her seat."  He responded again, "NOT ON MY BUS YOU'RE NOT!" as he stood up, he stomped his feet.  Then he said, "THAT'S MY JOB."  


Wait, let me get this straight.  You want to parent my child?  Am I in a horror movie?  Is he going to to take off that scary mask and tell me I've been punked?  That would be so cool.  I love Ashton Kutcher!  


By this time, fear had overcome O, but she took a spot quickly while her friend Mimi moved to sit next to her.  We said our sweet goodbyes and I left not looking at the bus driver who I wanted to give the bird.  I didn't just in case he WAS Ashton Kutcher. I mean who wants to be seen by 40 million viewers flipping-off the camera?


When I returned home I called the county bus office and reported him.  "Hello Bus Supervisor?  Hi.  I'm calling to report an #&*hole." The woman did not dismiss the negative incident, but did inform me that it is school policy to keep parents off the bus.  I kindly thanked her and hung up after telling her it was my policy to tell people who have stupid rules to shove it.   


Then I thought about O again.  WHAT?  You mean we have to say our goodbyes at the curb?  NO!  We can't.  She can't.  I can't.  We've come so far, and yes, that is our goal, but we need more time.  Oh where, oh where is our sweet bus driver, Mr. Billy?  From day one he has allowed us to ease into this difficult transition.  


I then called the school counselor and explained the incident, requesting she check in on O.  She assured me she would.


I said goodbye to my husband as he left for work and then I sat on the kitchen floor and thought about it all.  Should I drive her to school?  Should I force her on the bus each day?  When have I gone too far?  How will I ever know when enough is enough?  When will I stop fighting with myself?  Would someone please show me the answer???   And then the answer came to me...SPANX!   


I remembered a conversation I had at the dog park with a neighbor the day before.  She is very down to earth and I've always admired her way with dogs and people.  Further into the conversation, she was telling me about her dog who is obsessive compulsive and paces the house constantly.  She laughed and said she actually uses a special band for her dog because it holds him in tightly and it calms him.  Seems sensible.  As a kindergarten teacher, I am familiar with this type of calming.  I was trained in Brain Gym which taught teachers a special hold to help with calming anxiety.  Of course, you have to know the sensitivities of the child as some children are very sensitive to touch.  O always relaxes in this hold.  Wait!  That is it!  BUS SPANX! 


I just remembered something...O says she hates not being in a seatbelt on the bus.  AH-HA!  Why this is a great way to calm her!  I will patten it.  My girlfriend will market it.  


I wipe the tears from my eyes while I run up to my closet.  I decide to test my theory and put on my spanx.  It always takes me a few extra minutes to pull spanx on.  I throw on a pair of workout capris, tshirt and sneakers, drink my "super-girl" drink and head for the gym.  I'm feeling good.  I'm feeling calmer. 


On the way there, I jam to Katy Perry's song, TGIF as I continue to pat myself on the back.  I will never stop wearing spanx.  Never!  I can't believe I worked through this.  I feel so much better.  


As soon as I get to the gym I run to the restroom.  The green drink does that.  I potty, however when I go to pull up my pants I remember the reason why I hate spanx.  ERRRRCH!  In my head it sounded as though a record had scratched on my turntable.


Spanx is really good at pulling it in and making one feel calmer, but once they come down, it always takes a good 13 minutes to get them back up again.  I throw them in the trash and decide today is not the day to find a solution.  No big deal.  It's friday.  I have the weekend.  


When I get home, I get online and google 'dogs with OCD'.  I find another solution...a pheromone collar for dogs that releases pheromones that mother dogs produce to calm and reassure their puppies.  It helps with stressful situations for separation anxiety.  PERFECT!  I order one.  


I call my husband.  I did it!  I found the perfect tool.  He calmly reminds me my daughter is a human, not a canine.  Oh, right.  Damn!  OK.  I cancel the order, but not before I yell, "Kindergarten SUCKS!

Text for Seacrest from the "Wine" Lady

 Kelly Rippa texted Ryan Seacrest the other day:

I'm at back to school night...UGH!  

Apparently, her child's teacher had written a very complicated math problem on the board and she couldn't solve it.  As a teacher, my experience with back to school night was always fun.  It was an opportunity to meet and greet the parents and give them more opportunities to bridge school to home, etc..  

Last night, we had our first at O’s new elementary school.  As a parent, I had an enjoyable time at back to school night, as did my husband.  We took pictures of O's artwork hanging in the halls.  She had drawn a family portrait and a self portrait.  The faces all had big smiles, which reinforced her happiness in life.  Thank God, can you imagine if she had drawn mommy with a wine glass?

As we ventured into the classroom, we said our hello's to Mrs. M.  We found O's spot at a table and her work laying there.  One sheet had a fill in the blank exercise: “I like the _____ in my classroom.”  She had filled in the blank to say "TV" and had drawn a picture of it, a black square.  Well now that is interesting, but who can argue with a five year old.  I mean, this is the same girl that likes polka dot pants with holes in them, glittered striped shirts, Halloween socks, shoes that light up called Twinkle Toes, and let us not forget neon flower headbands.  However, for me the TV in her classroom reminded me of the TV my father won as top salesman back in 1982.  

I mentioned her choice to Mrs. M and she smiled and said that she too thought it an interesting choice as the TV had never been on this year, moreover, in her five years here.  I made a note to ask O about her choice later.  On the same paper there was a blank space below to draw what the parent likes best about her classroom.  I drew the morning message and Mrs. M.  The morning message because I don't have to do it anymore (retired teacher here), and Mrs. M. because she does it so well.  :) Don't get me wrong, I saw the need for the morning message and loved what it taught the kids in my class. However, my co-teacher and I often ran out of things to write about and it took time to write it.  So much so that the kids who could read in our classroom enjoyed pointing out that we hadn't changed the morning message very much from the previous day.  If they can read and write, then let them craft the morning message I once thought.  Then I got my latte and back to the professional, creative teacher I was and picked up my game.  Although, we did them, a couple of times it was groundhog day.  Imagine their astonishment when it actually was groundhog day!  We gave groundhog day a whole new meaning.

Using the promethium board, Mrs. M. began her powerpoint presentation.  My favorite quote, "I see kindergarten as the gateway to your child's education."  Thanks Mrs. M.  She spoke about the programs being used in math and language arts and how the programs are weaved into the curriculum of science, social studies and geography.  She displayed the class schedule and invited us to join the class for lunch any day of the week.  She explained the lunch process and the lunch cards.  One parent asked if the lunch card can also be used for breakfast as his son had mentioned he had eaten breakfast at school that day.  She confirmed he had.  As long as one has money on their lunch/ breakfast card, they can eat.  Can they use their lunch/ breakfast cards at the school spirit shop too?  What about the country club?  Can I borrow O's school lunch/breakfast card when I make my next run to the wine store?  For those of you who don't know me, allow me to introduce myself, I'm the "WINE" lady.  

After the presentation she directed us to the sign up sheets asking for volunteers.  Of course I was the over achiever, volunteering for every opportunity I could have to spend more time in the classroom with O.  One of my girlfriends had said she had volunteered to help with lunch in her daughter's kindergarten class and was disgusted with all the “snotty noses and germs she felt like she was being exposed to.”  I told her she would get used to it.  It is the same thing at home or in the office, just one of those things we don’t talk about enough.  Why is that? 

As a former teacher, I became accustomed to most illnesses, unless it was the "green elevens".  My co-teacher, JJ, had coined that phrase for the kids who's green snot hung in those two verticle spaces between the nose and the mouth.  In that case, then we, or often their friends, would send them to the Kleenex box.  If they seemed warm, we'd send them to the nurse.  One day, a little boy had overheard JJ and I, so when the nurse asked him why he was in her office, he told her he had the "green elevens'.  It really should be in the medical books.

The evening ended with a brief hallway conversation with the principal.  There was some discussion about the after school language immersion programs.  However, I knew I liked this principal when he also brought up the unnecessary need for over scheduling, especially referencing kindergartners.  Cautioning us as parents to really pay attention to the signs a child gives on how much play and down time is necessary.  I can't speak for O, but with my wine I need A LOT of down time!  

As we were walking out, I ran into the counselor.  Not for the wine.  You may remember her, as I referred to her in a past post when I had talked to her about O's issues with the bus.  I thanked her for her help and follow up.  She asked me how things were going and I told her basically what I had posted yesterday.  She said she has been checking in on O.  She said she seems to be adjusting well.  That O's always listening and engaged when she stops by Mrs. M's classroom.  She said, "I checked on her yesterday and as I came around the corner O was sitting in Mrs. M's lap being comforted.  It takes a while to adjust to the long days."  As the tears began to form in my eyes, I thanked her and said goodbye.  

Wiping my tears away, I ran to the car and texted Seacrest.  This is what my text said:

KINDERGARTEN SUCKS!  

  

Kindergarten SUCKS!: High School Snapshots

Kindergarten SUCKS!: High School Snapshots: So here's the scene: It's 8:20 am and we are on our way out the door after a few "I don't want to ride the bus" statements. It's a drear...

High School Snapshots

So here's the scene:  

It's 8:20 am and we are on our way out the door after a few "I don't want to ride the bus" statements.  It's a dreary day, but no rain yet, so we ditch the umbrella.  We walk to the bus stop looking for grasshoppers, singing, and talking about the "early release" day.  I make a note not to be at the nail salon or the wine store again, all the while O keeps asking me if I'm "REALLY" going to be at the bus stop after school.  Yes, REALLY. 

When we arrive at the bus stop, we say our hellos to all the children and parents who are probably wondering if I will be walking my child onto the bus AGAIN.  We give the kitty some treats.  We pet the kitty as the other kids gather around asking if they too can give away a few cat treats too.  The trash truck drives by us.  I tease O that today is a different day.  Rather than her riding the bus to school, she gets to ride the trash truck!  She glares at me not sure whether to believe me or not.  I smile.  She giggles and then ERRRRRCCHH!  

The bus pulls up and she grips my hand like she will never let go.  We walk up the stairs together as I greet the bus driver.  Mimi and Lina wave to us.  She sits down on the seat between them and looks up to me with sad eyes.  Mimi tells O she made a snowflake on the window for her.  I comment on the kindness of the gesture, however I get the sense O would have preferred a kind gesture of opening the emergency exit.   

We say our goodbyes with the kiss, hug and "kissing hand".  "Have fun, O", I tell her.  She begins to tear up.  I take a deep breath and tell her she can do this.  I tell the bus driver to "Drive Safe" and I run down the stairs.  All the while, I feel like the other parents must be shaking their heads and pursing their lips annoyed that I'm holding my child's hand and walking on to the bus with her every day.  My face is sad, but I take a deep breath and turn around with a smile and a wave just in case she decides to look out and wave back at me.  She doesn't.  I walk home with the feeling of my stomach in my throat, heart pounding.  Lately, I've been writing about other things, but this has been happening every day.

Last night at dinner I asked O why she doesn't like to ride the bus. "Mommy, I don't like to ride the bus, because I have to leave you."

"Aw, that is so sweet O.  Please don't worry about me, I'm a big girl and I have lots of responsibilities.  I will be at the gym, writing my blog, running errands.  Somewhere in there I will have lunch, maybe shop and then I will be back at the bus stop to pick you up.  Do you think it might help if daddy took you to the bus stop each day?"

"No.  I want you to take me to the bus stop."  

"OK.  Can you think of anything that might make it easier."

"No.  I just want you."

"Why don't I give you a little picture of me and then you can look at it when I'm not there?"

"No, because then I will miss you more and I will cry harder and harder.  Mommy, you're not going to make me go on the bus by myself, are you?"

"Only when you are ready.  You just have to tell me when that is."

"OK.  What if I'm never ready?"

"I don't know.  I have a feeling one day you will be." A snapshot flashes through my head of me getting on the high school girls soccer bus, giving her a hug, kiss, and a kissing hand.  Oh Lord, and I think the parents look at me now!  

I came home and thought about the bottle of Pinot Noir on my counter and then decided instead to meditate.  And here is the wisdom that came out of that.  Go drink the wine.  Don't just sit here wondering how much longer you have before five minutes of silence is up.  Go drink the wine.  It's right there and it's waiting for you.  And then after a deep breath I receive this:  

While O is dealing with the emotional pressure of Kindergarten, I too am dealing with some perceived peer pressure from the other parents who may not understand what I am going through trying to aclimate my child to this new routine. I know what is best for my child. If that means getting on the bus every morning or some other measure to ensure my child's happiness, I will do it without the concern of what others think.  Truth be told, however, I also know that we live in a wonderful community among wonderful friends and neighbors who likely know and accept the process I am dealing with, and don’t judge me in any way.  That gives me great comfort.  And if she's in high school requesting this same routine, I will do whatever it takes to make her feel safe and confident in this big beautiful world – except her homework!  

And I thought I left all those self-concious feelings way back in high school.  It's just another confirmation that kindergarten SUCKS!