Garrett's First Day of Kindergarten

Garrett's first day of Kindergarten started with breakfast with friends and family. Our friends Anna and Emily and their 6 kids were visiting us from Virginia! They all had waffles and juice and waved bye to Garrett as he headed out for his first day of school. Garrett was cool as a cucumber, but I was a bit scattered and nervous. As we were walking out the door, Garrett said, "Wait mommy! Don't I need my lunch?" I had loaded the poor kid with 5 pounds of school supplies, a towel for his rest period, and a sack of goldfish crackers to share with is class, but had completely forgot his lunch. Also, my camera wasn't working properly so I had to borrow Anna's to take a picture of our first journey to school.

We had a pleasant 10 minute walk. The only time I felt emotional was when we walked by Isabela's house. Isabela had her first day on Friday, but she was very aware that Garrett was starting on Thursday and watched for him out her window. Garrett waved to her enthusiastically and said, "Hi Isabewa! I go to school now!" Her support of him and his happiness to see her was a near tear-jerker.

Chris did a great job of talking to Garrett about his day on the way to school. He told him that he would have two teachers and that he would eat his lunch in a bigger room with the other kids. He explained that he should listen to his teacher and not play fighting games. He also told him that he would make lots of new friends and he practiced saying, "Hello, my name is Garrett. Would you like to play with me?"

When we got to school, I couldn't remember if we were supposed to wait outside in the designated triangle, or if we were supposed to take the kids inside. They had said something about doing it differently on the first day. Another mommy decided that we should just try to go inside. We were quickly rerouted by the school secretary. I had the distinct feeling that I was going to be sent to the principals office. Funny how you never shake that feeling. Finally the bell rang and all the kids filed into the building. We waited until everyone was in and then went in ourselves. We introduced Garrett to his teachers and took some pictures. The teachers then cued us to leave by saying, "Ok, boys and girls. Let's all wave bye bye to mom and dad." There was a chorus of goodbye's and then we left, snapping pictures as Garrett faded from view.

After school, Anna and the three girls (Kerrigan, Ella, and Mary) met Garrett on the playground. He was very happy to see us. I said, "Hey Garrett, how was your big day." He said, "Oh fine. Mommy, when they turned those lights out and it was dark and I had a dream that Connor and Aidan got on a plane and I said bye to them and I was sad to see them go home and that's what happened when the teacher made the room dark and I wanted to go home." I said, "Oh, you mean during your rest time? You didn't like the way the room looked." He said, "No I thought it was dark and I had a bad dream." I asked him if he used his towel. He said, "No, cause I forgot it. I didn't have a towel." Man, I sent the towel and he didn't even use it. I made a mental note to email the teacher and say, "What gives? I sent the towel!?" Later I noticed the towel in his backpack. What's up with this towel? Will I have to send it back and forth everyday? I definitely need some clarification on the towel. So then I asked Garrrett, "How was the rest of the day? What did you do first." He said, "Well, first I go into that room and we had a group time. We read a book about special people, like my teacher uses a chair machine. Then we made a picture about being special." I said, "Oh, I see. You're teacher told you that she uses a special chair and then you had to think of ways that you were special. What did you draw?" He said, "I drew myself." I said, "But what did you draw that showed that you are special." He said, "I don't know, mommy. I just draw myself like I was told." Then I asked him, "How was your lunch?" He said, "It was good." I asked, "Did you eat it all?" He said, "Well, no I just ate some of it and then I played." I said, "Oh, well we'll have to see what's still in your lunch box." Then he said, "Also mommy, I had to pee and I thought about it and I thought I think I'll just wait until I get home." I explained that he could ask the teacher about using the bathroom. He said, "Yeah, but I thought I should go at home." Hm.. We'll have to work on that.

When we arrived home we had juice and cookies with all of our visiting friends. Garrett seemed like such a big kid all of a sudden. I told Garrett that I needed a helper to hand out the juice boxes. He said, "Ok mommy, I'll take off the straws and put them in the juice box for all the little kids." Then he turned to the kids and said, "Ok, I gonna help you. I gonna put in those straws and then I'm gonna give you a juice. Okay kids?" It was so cute.

Occasionally throughout the day Mary would ask, "Where's my Garrett?" She's surprised not to see him in the car when I pick her up from her preschool. She will notice that he's not in the house. I think she will start to anticipate our walk to the school and be happy to see him. I have to remember that this is a big transition for her as well. I missed Garrett too. Even with the commotion of having 7 kids in my house that day, Garrett's absence was felt. It was a big "First Day" for all of us.

Paul's Visit and A Post Visit Photo

Garrett and Mary recently had a great visit with their godfather, Paul. In fact, we were having so much fun, we forgot to take a picture! Rats! Here's a picture I made so that I can pretend that I remembered.

During his visit Paul had the opportunity to watch Garrett in his swimming class. He was impressed with Garrett's progress and encouraged Garrett to listen to his swim coach. That means you have to keep your head above the water, Garrett! Paul also helped me and Mary assemble the train set and make a marble shoot. It would have been nice to have a picture of that. We went to the park and played in the water-play water fountains and had some custard cup ice cream. Paul saw how messy kids are and how great it is to understand the properties of proper spoon handling. For example, one should not hold one's spoon with the bowl of the spoon in the air so that all the ice cream can drip down your spoon, all over your hands, clothes, and the floor. Paul also accompanied us on a trip to the hair cutting shop, where Mary got her first real haircut. We wanted to make sure that Paul got the full tour of our family affairs, so he also was available for Mary's eventful trip to the potty in which she both peed and pooped and got her "poop candy" reward. Yes, Paul has traveled all around the world, but I'm sure this was his most educational stop. I wonder why we forgot the camera? Paul is now an expert at getting kids in and out of the car, and he knows how to help Mary learn to say please and thank you. It goes something like this:

Mary (big whine): Mommy!! I want apple juice!
Caroline: Oh, you do? Can you think of a nicer way to ask for apple juice?
Mary: I want apple juice!
Caroline: Can you say, "Mommy, may I have some apple juice please?"
Mary: Yes!
Caroline: No, you don't say "Yes, I want juice." You ask for the juice the way I'm saying it. Say, "Mommy, can I have some apple juice please?"
Mary: YES!
Caroline: Paul, can you say, "I'd like some apple juice please, Mommy."
Paul: I'd like some apple juice please, mommy.
Caroline: OH! Good asking Paul. Mary, now you say it like Paul said it.
Mary: Please I have some apple juice mommy?
Caroline: Of course! Thank you for asking so nicely.

Another stop Paul made on the family tour was to learn the art of preparing a dinner party whilst watching Garrett and Mary. When one is cooking in the kitchen with one's back to the goings on of small children, one must poke one's head around every once in a while and make sure that the little turkeys aren't up to no good. Frequent peeks at Garrett reveal that there is no risk of Garrett causing a problem or injuring himself. Peeks at Mary remind one of how important it is to keep peeking. Unfortunately what usually happens is that there is a period of high activity in the kitchen and one forgets about the peeking procedure. By the time one remembers, it is too late. In this particular instance Paul and I were preparing dinner for 5. We had things on the grill, two versions of main dishes on the stove (one vegetarian and one delicious), as well as a golden beet salad with toasted walnuts and goat cheese in the works. While we were busily washing, chopping, stirring, marinating, grilling, and so forth, Mary was running back and forth talking about pools of water. I said, "What Mary? You want to go to the pool?" She said, "Yes. Pool of water. I wash the turtle." I thought she must be talking about the dinosaur slide at the indoor pool, which looks like a turtle. I said, "It's not Mary's turn to go to the pool." She left the room, talking about pools and water and turtles. After a few minutes I finished chopping something and saw a small turtle on the floor. The turtle was surrounded by a large towel. In one of those flashes of insight, I realized that Mary had been saying she washed her own turtle, which meant that she had been playing in the sink in the bathroom, which also meant that she may not have turned off the water. I rushed to the bathroom and to my horror (and T minus 45 on people coming over), I found the sink overflowing and 1.5 inches of water on my bathroom floor. After a series of "Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!'s," Paul came rushing to see what was the matter. He said, "Oh wow. What can I do? Where can I get towels?" I said, "Keep cooking." The show must go on. "I'll take care of this." Before I touched a drop, I grabbed Mary, who was hiding under pillows on the couch, and said, "Mary look! This is bad. This is very bad. Bad Mary! I think you should go to your room and think about this bad water. I am not happy with you." She went up the stairs with her tail between her legs and didn't come out until I returned for her apology. So, something tells me that this might have been a new experience for Paul, although I think it did deepen his already well-developed appreciation for wine. Kids make wine taste better. And if I were telling the story of our entire evening, that would be a good lead in to the next paragraph. Alas, I am not. We're discussing Paul's visit with Miss Moo and Mr. Mo.

After 3 and half days Paul had to say goodbye to us. Garrett and Mary were quite sad. Mommy was very sad too. Mary keeps talking about how she's going to see Paul next week. She won't see him next week, but she will see some other exciting visitors next week. They will look forward to Paul's next visit. They always remember the fun things that they do with him and point out his pictures around the house. We hope we didn't scare him away. Maybe he'll come back when Mary is in boarding school. Whenever he comes, we'll be sure to take a picture.

Check Ups

Today Garrett and Mary had their yearly check ups. Garrett had to have 3 separate shots and he took 'em like a man! I was so proud of him! Unfortunately, Mary was acting like an orangutan, bouncing around the office, talking non-stop, and pretending that she was the doctor. When it came time to talk about Mary's growth, the doctor said, "So, how is Mary? Clearly there's no problem with her language development!" No, definitely no problem there, unless you consider the inability to stop talking a problem.

Today Mary insisted that she go outside to visit with the neighbors cat. I was taking a phone call, so I took the phone outside and instructed her to stay close to me (Heaven forbid I should have to hang up the phone and follow her and the cat on an endless journey). Of course, she started to move out of my sight toward the neighbors house. I said, "Mary, come back here. TOO FAR! I can't see you." Holding up one finger, she said, "I be back in a minute mom!" Oh, well, since you put it that way. Right. I told her to come back THIS INSTANT! She came back and put her stuffed kitty in the center of the driveway to keep watch over things. Only then would she follow me back inside. She is SO willful!

Garrett's big moment of the day was jamming his foot in the door at the indoor pool. In case I haven't told you, Garrett is the loudest crier on the planet. So imagine that you just jammed your foot under a heavy door and you have crumpled to the ground with screams of pain, are rocking back and forth to self-soothe, and your sensitive mother is saying, "Okay, okay, it will be okay! But, honey, please cry a little quieter. You're scaring small children." I'm not totally heartless. I did cross forbidden swim staff territory to procure a bandaid and then carried his wet, damaged, 50-pound body to the car. Once we were in the car and the crying had stopped (but not the bleeding), I said, "Now, Garrett, when we get home, I'll help you out of your wet clothes, and then I want you to go straight to the computer and play Lego Star Wars. You must stay off of your foot." He said, "Okay, mommy. I think that's a good idea." You bet.

My glass of wine tasted mighty good this evening. Mighty good.

New Blog Access

Hi, everyone. Well for the first time ever I had a suspicious comment on my blog. You know, I am generally a trusting person, but when it comes to my kids I am super cautious. I was alerted to the fact that I had a suspicious stranger commenting on the blog... not a friend-of-a-friend type, but a weirdo-type, so now I will need to make the blog an invite-only thing. This is sad because I like the idea of my friends sharing our stories with their friends. If you have a friend who would like access to the blog (I know some of you have a link to the blog from your own blog), then please send along their address. I would be happy to have many readers who are just normal, happy, well-intentioned people reading our blog. For example, my sister works with a lot of great people who check up on Mr. Mo and Miss Moo from time to time. Just send me their addresses and I'll invite them to view the blog. Sorry for the censorship. I truly wish it were not necessary.

Star Wars and Dinosaurs!

Mary and Garrett love to wear hats and costumes. They put on their clever disguises and they are transformed! Here Mary is a Dinosaur (Garretts previous Halloween costume) and Garrett is a Storm Trooper (Thanks, Pop!).

Oh To Walk in Garrett's Shoes

One day last Spring we were coming home from a tasty Mexican dinner. It was a grand time because the kids sat in the booth and ate their tacos and didn't throw sugar packets all over the place or spill water in my lap. We had a good time. Chris and I had just finished making the decision to send Garrett to the public kindergarten in our neighborhood (after an agonizing round of visits to other area schools) and we were feeling great about it.

Chris said, "Garrett, we're going to drive by your new school on the way home!"
"Oh! Cool!" Garrett said.
"I like your new school Garrett! It looks like so much fun!"
"Oh, I will like to go to that school."
"Yes," Chris sighed, thinking about the joys of being 5 and going to a super-fun, award-winning school, "It sure would be nice to walk around in your shoes."
Garrett paused. He said, "You want to walk in my shoes?"
"Oh yes! 'Cause your school is really great."
"Hm," thought Garrett, "You mean my Spiderman shoes? Daddy, I think they're too small for you!"

In order to walk in Garrett's shoes, you have to wear a boy's size 12. Sorry, Chris.

We Love You, Yellow Bus!

Garrett started taking the bus to his new "Washington" pre-school on March 24. For two weeks prior I told everyone who would listen that Garrett would be getting on the bus. At first I told the school that I would take Garrett to school and pick him up myself. They reminded me that the bus was free and he was entitled to take it. I thought, "Like hell I'm going to watch my son get on a bus with a stranger and drive away from me faster than I can run!" But then, I started to think things through. Gosh, it sure would save a lot of time if Garrett took the bus. If Mary was napping, I wouldn't have to wake her up to go get Garrett. That would be nice. The bus comes right to our front door, so it's not like I'd have to worry about getting to the bus stop on time. I'd be right there. Garrett might enjoy the independence. Hmm.... I called the school back and said, "Sign us up for the bus." But, I was anxious. What would he really think about his mother putting him on a bus and saying, "Goodbye!" He would have no idea where he was going and he wouldn't know anyone. I felt cruel. All of you with little babies in your arms, try to imagine putting that infant on a bus and waving goodbye! That's how I felt. Even if Garrett is 5, he's still my baby. Everyone reassured me that Garrett would love the bus. They said he'd be fine. They told me how lucky I was that I had such a great service available to me. I really tried to feel grateful.

March 24th came. Garrett had his jacket and his backpack. We had talked about the bus. I told him that the bus would take him to school and his new teacher would greet him when he got off the bus. I said, "Their will be other kids on the bus too and you're all going to school to have a good time." He said, "Okay." The big bus pulled up to our house. I had to give Garrett a little shove. I said, "Okay, up you go. There you go." He looked at me with uncertainty. "It's okay, Garrett, " I said, choking back tears. "The driver will take you to school and I'll be right here when you come home." He scuttled up the stairs and with his bravest voice said, "BYE MOMMY!" I clung to Mary. I waved, "BYE GARRETT. LOVE YOU!!! SEE YOU SOON!" I'm telling you that I have not seen motion pictures with this kind of angst and heart wrenching emotion. Even those sappy war movies where you are left to wonder if the soldier will ever come home again can't compare.

I went into the house and cried. I felt lame. Somebody called and, hearing the sadness in my voice, asked, "What's wrong?" I said, "Oh nothing. I just put Garrett on the bus. With a stranger. He has no idea where he's going. He probably thinks I gave him up for adoption. It's an adoption pick up bus. But, I'm sure it's fine. I'm fine. I'm really fine. He'll be back in 3 hours." They were in fact, some of the slowest 3 hours of my life. I was afraid to do anything. I didn't want to get too absorbed in a task and miss the bus. If the bus comes and I'm not there, the bus will leave with my child. Again.

Garrett came home. He was happy. He said, "MOMMY!!!!" He jumped into my arms. Ah, the sweet joy of reunion. He had a great day. He told me about the bus and his new class. I gave him cookies and milk--just like Donna Reed would do if she put her kid on a bus. I hugged him every 15 minutes for the rest of the day. The next day, he said he didn't want to get on the bus. He clung to me for a few seconds and I assured him it was okay and put him on the bus. I had a little lump in my throat, but I didn't cry. I even enjoyed the hours of just having Mary with me. We ran a few errands and got home in time to greet Garrett with his cookies. I marveled at how much I could accomplish with one child to tote around. That evening he had a fever and he stayed home the next day. I began to realize what a gift it was to have him occupied in the afternoon. The following Monday, I eagerly awaited the bus, strapped on the backpack, and sent him to the curb. "See ya later!" I said. He asked, "Mommy, will there be cookies when I come home?" I said, "Yes. Be good at school. Bye bye!" He said, "Okay, see ya and don't let Mary eat my cookies!"

That day Garrett came home from school and I said, "Hey Garrett! How was school?" With the skilled indifference of a teenager he said, "What? Oh, fine. I'll take my cookies upstairs. I'm going to play my game." I said, "How 'bout first you tell me one thing about your day, eat your cookies, and THEN go upstairs? How about that?" He said, "Ok," and slumped in the chair. Boy, it was like he aged 10 years at school that day. Then the teeth pulling began:

I asked, "So what did you do today?"
"I don't know."
"Did you play outside?"
"I can't remember."
"Did you play with friends?"
"Huh? Oh yeah."
"What was your friend's name?"
"I can't remember."
"Did you do some art or make something?"
"I think so. Yeah, I made a pizza."

Oh boy. Eventually Garrett and I learned how to dialog about his day. I learned that he chooses a job when he gets to school. Some days he was "line leader" or "kid counter, " other days he was "snack helper" or "door holder." He was most proud of being line leader. He had a library day and a speech day. He played in the gym or out in the playground. Whatever we discussed it could only last as long as long as it takes to eat two cookies. And whatever was happening at school, Garrett enjoyed it; every day he eagerly watched for his bus.

The picture at the top of this post is of Garrett on his last day of taking the bus. I wanted to cry on that day to. I will miss our bus and our bus routine! Farewell quiet afternoons! Farewell guaranteed happy, tired out 5 year old. Farewell, faithfully prompt bus driver. We love you, Yellow Bus!

Now, it's off to kindergarten in just a few weeks. We live too close to the school to take the bus. Too bad. But it sure will be fun to take our ten minute walks to and from the school. I'm sure when we get to the playground Garrett will take off, barely pausing to look back at me. I'll get a little misty eyed the first day. I'll probably make lots of cookies. And there is no way my precious baby is ever going to walk to school on his own. No way! Not enough cookies in this world for that kind of anxiety!

Goodbye Goldfish, Hello Sunfish

I think I may have blogged about my little Goldfish last summer. Garrett took 3 rounds of swimming lessons last summer and he was a Goldfish every time. In order to pass out of Goldfish, you have to put your head under the water. Garrett was very good at getting everything under the water except the tip of his nose and the pucker of his lips. When I signed him up for round two, I asked the swim director, "Do you think I should sign up Garrett for Sunfish next? I don't know if he'll pass Goldfish." She said, "Sign him up for Sunfish. Everyone passes Goldfish."

Not everyone. This summer I was determined to be the proud mother of a Sunfish! Truly, I only care that Garrett is having a good time, but I could see that he was bored with the other activities. He had to fill a bucket with water, by cupping his hands and throwing water into the bucket. Then, he had to pour the water over his head. He had to kick from the side of the pool and try to make the foam brick by his feet go farther and farther. He had to let the teacher hold him in a float position. Stuff like that. How many times can you do that before you get bored? If he could only put his head in the water, he could dive for rings, search for treasure on the bottom of the pool, start learning strokes. The possibilities are endless!

So, on the first day of Goldfish (Round 4), I spoke to the director again. I said, "Hi. I think we've logged more hours of Goldfish than anyone else. How can we get Garrett to put his head under the water? Sometimes he has trouble processing directions and he might be distracted. It's the only thing I can think of." She said, "Hm... well I would suggest some private lessons. Maybe he would be less distracted." Great! Sign us up.

Garrett LOVES his private lessons. He put his head under the water on the first day! Now he glides into the water like a shark, only occasionally coming up for air. He eats goldfish for lunch! That's my boy! Oh, you can't see him? That's 'cause he's under the water. Well, maybe he's not quite a shark, but he will be a Sunfish!

Rats!

Last Monday Garrett had 3 back to back appointments, which made for some crazy driving around town. Naturally the 2:00 appointment was at the farthest possible point from the 3:00 appointment. And of course the 2:00 appointment ran late and I was leaving for the 3:00 appointment at 3:00! And it was blazing hot. And the kids were dawdling on their way to the car, trying to balance on all the curbs instead of directly moving toward the car. I was a bit flustered. The only way to get from the first location to the next was to go through town with all the stop lights and afternoon traffic. I called ahead to let 3:00 know that we were going to be late, but that we were on our way.

After 15 minutes of stop and go driving, I arrived on my final stretch of long road. I could see two miles of green lights. And then my next light turned yellow. And then red. I said, "OH RATS!" Mary said, "Where?!" I explained, "I got a red light honey and we're late. So I said, 'rats!'" She said, "I don't see them!" Suddenly I realized she thought that I was seeing actual rats and pointing them out. I said, "No, I don't see rats." She said, "But where are they, rats?" I said, "There are no rats." Then I got another red light and instinctively said, "Oh! Rats again!" She said, "Mommy! Where? Where?" How do you explain this to a 2 year old? I decided to explain it to Garrett instead. I said, "Sometimes when you're frustrated or something happens that you don't like, or you make a mistake, you say, "RATS!" Garrett said, "Oh, okay." For the rest of the day Garrett said Rats whenever he could. He had trouble putting on his seatbelt and said, "I think I want to say rats." He dropped food off his fork, looked at me and said, "Rats?" I said, "Yep." Mary is still looking for the rats.