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Today was the first day of Vacation Bible School at the Lutheran church where Kara will attend preschool in the fall. Both Jenna and Kara are signed up to attend, and this will be a first for Kara. The "first time" mommy will drop her off somewhere and leave! They were wiling to accept a three year-old as long as they were potty trained. We crossed that bridge last month, so I figured that this might be a good opportunity for her to get used to being dropped off somewhere, and still have her "sissy" with her. Boy was that lucky!
Let me pause the story here to give you an aside. For those that don't know, in my former life I was a teacher. An early childhood teacher. Now this is information that I don't give out as readily as I used to because (1) people then assume I have answers to their questions / recommendations about education (I don't) (2) with my background one might assume that I'm a super-cool mom who does lots of arts and crafts and projects and trips with her own children (I don't).
I can vividly recall the first days of each school year . . . the children who came to me crying . . . the parents who just didn't seem to know how to seperate from their kids on that first day. Back then, I was very matter of fact: I told the parents I could handle the crying, I was a master at persuading children to come out of their shells and feel comfortable with me, and I was pretty adamant about the parents just dropping off, giving one last kiss, and hitting the road.
Fast forward three years, and now I'm on the other side of the fence. I'm the parent of the sad little child, crying and begging mama not to leave.
Kara's hemming and hawing began last night when suddenly, she wasn't as taken with the idea of "going to school" as she has been all summer. One thing I've learned from my five years experience with this job as a mom is that I can never properly predict or plan for my childrens' reactions to a new situation. When I prepare for the worst, they hardly bat an eye . . . when I assume there will be smooth sailing, they throw me for a loop. Today I set off for VBS with a sense of dread, but the hope that I would be proven wrong. I wasn't.
Kara cried and clinged and begged and pleaded me not to leave her. This all took place in the parking lot before we even entered the building. Once inside, we found our nametags and searched for our assigned groups: Kara was group #13 (a.k.a. "unlucky 13") and Jenna was in group #7 (a.k.a. internationally known "lucky number"). I gulped, took a deep breath, and prepared to watch Kara confront the reality that she wouldn't be spending the morning with her sissy, but with other 3 year-olds in her group.
We made our way through the packed assembly room and found our numbers. As luck would have it, Jenna's group was stationed directly in front of Kara's group. I introduced them each to their "teacher" (a.k.a. teenage counselor) and tried to scoot away. Nothing doing. I sat down right in the middle of the two groups and put each of my babies on the side nearest their corresponding group. I told them they could be right next to each other. When they were distracted by the opening announcements, I ran for the door (well, as fast as you can run with a 20-pound child in a stroller that doesn't have any operational wheels left after 5+ years of service).
Once out in the atrium, I began walking back and forth with Jack and sneaking peeks into the gathering room. There stood my two darling babies, the big "sissy" and the little "sissy", holding hands, right smack in the middle of their two groups. They had found their Switzerland, their "neutral" territory where neither would be completely abandoned. Mommy had left them, but they still had each other.
We have about one month to go until school starts. I'm hoping this VBS experience will teach Kara about being without her mommy . . . that she'll get used to being dropped off . . . that the drop-offs at preschool will go smoothly given this previous experience. . . that she'll learn to trust that school is a fun, safe place and that mommy always comes back for her at the end of the day.
I also have one month to prepare myself. I just know I'm going to be one of "those parents" who just can't seperate from their child on the first day of school.
Let me pause the story here to give you an aside. For those that don't know, in my former life I was a teacher. An early childhood teacher. Now this is information that I don't give out as readily as I used to because (1) people then assume I have answers to their questions / recommendations about education (I don't) (2) with my background one might assume that I'm a super-cool mom who does lots of arts and crafts and projects and trips with her own children (I don't).
I can vividly recall the first days of each school year . . . the children who came to me crying . . . the parents who just didn't seem to know how to seperate from their kids on that first day. Back then, I was very matter of fact: I told the parents I could handle the crying, I was a master at persuading children to come out of their shells and feel comfortable with me, and I was pretty adamant about the parents just dropping off, giving one last kiss, and hitting the road.
Fast forward three years, and now I'm on the other side of the fence. I'm the parent of the sad little child, crying and begging mama not to leave.
Kara's hemming and hawing began last night when suddenly, she wasn't as taken with the idea of "going to school" as she has been all summer. One thing I've learned from my five years experience with this job as a mom is that I can never properly predict or plan for my childrens' reactions to a new situation. When I prepare for the worst, they hardly bat an eye . . . when I assume there will be smooth sailing, they throw me for a loop. Today I set off for VBS with a sense of dread, but the hope that I would be proven wrong. I wasn't.
Kara cried and clinged and begged and pleaded me not to leave her. This all took place in the parking lot before we even entered the building. Once inside, we found our nametags and searched for our assigned groups: Kara was group #13 (a.k.a. "unlucky 13") and Jenna was in group #7 (a.k.a. internationally known "lucky number"). I gulped, took a deep breath, and prepared to watch Kara confront the reality that she wouldn't be spending the morning with her sissy, but with other 3 year-olds in her group.
We made our way through the packed assembly room and found our numbers. As luck would have it, Jenna's group was stationed directly in front of Kara's group. I introduced them each to their "teacher" (a.k.a. teenage counselor) and tried to scoot away. Nothing doing. I sat down right in the middle of the two groups and put each of my babies on the side nearest their corresponding group. I told them they could be right next to each other. When they were distracted by the opening announcements, I ran for the door (well, as fast as you can run with a 20-pound child in a stroller that doesn't have any operational wheels left after 5+ years of service).
Once out in the atrium, I began walking back and forth with Jack and sneaking peeks into the gathering room. There stood my two darling babies, the big "sissy" and the little "sissy", holding hands, right smack in the middle of their two groups. They had found their Switzerland, their "neutral" territory where neither would be completely abandoned. Mommy had left them, but they still had each other.
We have about one month to go until school starts. I'm hoping this VBS experience will teach Kara about being without her mommy . . . that she'll get used to being dropped off . . . that the drop-offs at preschool will go smoothly given this previous experience. . . that she'll learn to trust that school is a fun, safe place and that mommy always comes back for her at the end of the day.
I also have one month to prepare myself. I just know I'm going to be one of "those parents" who just can't seperate from their child on the first day of school.
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