That’s me in the hall. way. sending my daughter to kindergarten.
This week Laylee has a kindergarten “soft start.” Today she met with her teacher one-on-one for 20 minutes to discuss important matters like the sounds a “G” makes and whether or not she knows her own phone number.
From what I’ve heard, the teacher is an angel of heavenly joy and ever-lovin’ beauty blessedness. I’ve been hearing her name for 2 years, usually accompanied by sighs and gasps and mumbles about wonderfulness… absolutely amazingosity… and… freakin’ sainthood. I had more than one person tell me, “You have GOT to make sure Laylee gets in Mrs. Sweetsie’s class.” And I’d say, “Oh yeah? How do I make sure she gets in there?” And then they’d say, “Oh. You can’t. You can’t request a specific teacher but you’d better hope she gets in that class. Mrs. Sweetsie is an altruistic alchemist of magical teaching genius who belches fairy dust and has celestial light streaming from her fingertips. Having Timmy in her class has been the single best experience of my life. Good luck.”
So, needless to say although I’m going to say it anyway, I was more than pleased to find out Laylee had been put in her class. And she does seem like a keeper from the 20 minutes I spent with her today… er Laylee spent with her today while I filled out paperwork in the hallway outside the door and cried my eyes out because Laylee’s growing up so fast and for the love why did I ever stop breastfeeding her. If she were still on the teat, I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t make me send her off into the world.
Not that anyone’s making me. I know I could homeschool but this feels like the right decision at the moment, even if it’s tearing my heart out through my left nostril. I sat in the hall filling out forms.
How many hours per day would you like to volunteer?
What bus will Laylee be taking home from school?
How many siblings does she have?
What are some of Laylee’s personality quirks or issues?
What is your biggest dream for her this school year?
And then I lost it. My dream for her? My dream for her? I have a dream. I have many actually. I dream that she will learn to stop calling me really loudly from the backseat of the car, only to mumble in an incoherent whisper once she has my attention. I dream that she will grow to love broccoli. I dream that she will ever begin a sentence to me without using the word “MOM!” at the front of it. I dream that she will learn things that thrill her and cause HER to dream big. I dream that she will grow in self esteem this year and have good friends who help her be better. I dream that she will always know how special she is and how much I love her.
I cried as I wrote down a couple of my dreams for her, none of which have anything to do with academics or book knowledge and then quickly wiped the tears away. I didn’t want to be THAT mom, although I’m pretty sure that nearly every first time kindergarten mom is THAT mom. It’s a special sorority of puddlehood that binds us all together.
And then I overheard Laylee and Mrs. Sweetsie talking in the next room.
Mrs S: So, what does your dad do for his job?
Laylee: He does all kinds of hilarious stuff and goes to parties.
*Mrs S: He just does fun things at work all day?
Laylee: Yeah. Oh man. This one time they took his boss and shoved his face in a BOWL OF WHIP CREAM!
Mrs S: And what does your mom do for work? Does she stay home with you or go somewhere else?
Laylee: Well sometimes for work she does gardening or just watches us kids and sometimes for work she types things on the computer so people will pay her money so she can buy us stuff.
I actually think she got my job pretty dead-on, minus the Cinderella triumvirate of the mending and the sewing and the laundry, and of course the Dr. Mario and the eating of the bonbons. It’s obvious who brings home the bacon in this family. While Dan’s off doing “hilarious stuff” and partying with whipped cream, I’m slaving away at home to make a few bucks. Sad!
Here’s a video of a work party a while back where Dan’s co-workers paid their boss $50 to let them dunk him in the creamy white goodness. Dan showed it to the kids and apparently it made quite an impression, erasing Laylee’s every memory of visiting him at MegaCorp, hearing about how he writes code all day and fixes bugs. No. Whipped cream is all-encompassing now. Not a bad job if you can get it.
*I’m not sure exactly what Mrs S replied. I was too busy listening for Laylee’s next enlightening tidbit of information to be added to our permanent file. I really think all teachers should write books about all the fascinating things their young students tell them about their home lives.