schooling

For the two years we have lived in Omaha, Roanin has attended the Montessori school that is close to our house.  We chose it because he had started as a 3 year old in a Montessori back in Texas and felt like the familiarity with the Montessori Method would help with his transition here...not to mention I am obsessed with this type of schooling method and love it to pieces.  His kindergarten year went great, but due to the fact that the kinder year is spent in the same classroom as the first and second year...it was very familiar and anti-climatic.  We all missed out on the first day of kindergarten freak out session and the "my baby is all grown up feelings" that I have heard horror stories about.

*cue this year*

Sneek-a-Peek Night at Roanin's new school

We decided to make a switch.  I adore Montessori and think that the education system in America would actually do better if it had more of these concepts Incorporated into it, but there were things about Roanin's experience that needed some consideration.  First, as is traditional at all Montessori schools, the bulk of the learning experience is done through independent initiation of works.  Teachers don't tell you what to do for the most part...the students tell the teacher what they are interested in and ask for help if they need it.  Although Roanin has a work ethic like you wouldn't believe, his timidness finds him often looking for cues about what to actually hone in on.  His teachers told me at conferences that they would often find out Roanin had a question about something in the class only after they approached him and asked him why he had not chosen a new work to pursue.  He had the desire, and the potential to be successful at something, but would sit quietly because other children were asserting their questions and he didn't want to barge in.  Secondly, and a point that could have potentially cancelled out many of the problems of the first if it were different, but our school was extremely small.  Roanin had a small pool of his peers and an even tinier few that he latched onto and got his cues from.

I had a great public school experience as a child.  From the time I moved to my school in 2nd grade through my graduation day, I loved it.  I learned a lot (for the most part).  I made life long friends to whom I still share my most intimate secrets and get the honor of listening to theirs.  Shawn's public school experience was not so great.  Shawn was very shy as a child and also laid claim to a horrible case of undiagnosed (and unnoticed - WTF) dyslexia to boot.  So he was often under the radar...and really off the radar for that matter.  He didn't learn a lot and doesn't talk to a soul from high school.

I began snooping around.  I looked at our public schools, local private schools, parochial schools, and reevaluated our current learning situation.  It kind of became a case of having too many good options...and I won't bore you or annoy you with the details but a decision still loomed.  I toured and grilled other moms I knew for their opinion.  I lured kids with juiceboxes and drilled them about their school experience.  I will even admit to finding a way to fit school history into cocktail conversations with adults who I respect and think are thriving in life in order to accomplish some weird no-where-close-to-scientific study in my head.  If you haven't figured it out yet - I tend to over think things a bit.

*sigh*

So the decision finally was reached.  We chose a school in a neighboring district and I wrote the dissertation that was necessary to have a chance at getting into it.  And we waited.  And we heard back.  And we celebrated.  And then I overthunk some more and got nervous.  And then we got his teacher assignment and list of classmates.  And then we cheered some more.  And then we got backpacks and supplies and laid out clothes.  And then it was the night before the first day and I felt a lump in my stomach.

There it was.  It was the elusive "my baby is grown up feeling" and it hit me like a ton of bricks.  I woke up the next morning and found that it had found a partner, reproduced itself 14 fold and picked up the skill of breathing fire all overnight.

German tradition of first day of school Schultutes for the boys.

We give ours the night before as to avoid the sugar dump right before class.

So Rexy and I walked him in, and I disguised my disheveled new emotion with lots of smiles and pats on the back and blurry photo opps with my phone.  But it was happening and I couldn't breathe.  We walked down the loooooooong hallways and pointed to all the cool new things about this school.  A lunchroom that is also a gym!  My own cubby!  My own desk!  A girl named Rowan in my classroom! And she's cute!  But for each new thing that was cool, I could have listed off 100 that were not cool about this little baby of mine being able to perhaps make this walk tomorrow by himself.

Rex and I returned home and I sat down at my desk to shuffle things around to feel productive and avoid a pretend play marathon with overly-eager Rexy.  I came upon an old notebook that I had when we were living in Idaho and had our first born.  Roanin had some nursing problems for the first few weeks and we didn't know and were trying to troubleshoot the situation by any means necessary.  At the suggestion of the pediatrician, I kept a detailed log of Roanin's life....eating, sleeping, mood, etc.  As I studied this detailed list of Roanin's life from his first few days, I was shocked at where I find myself today...just six short years later.  Somehow I have catapulted from knowing every ounce he ingested and every minute he slept to waving at him through the glass door of a K-6 public elementary school and then spending the next six and a half hours obsessing about what he is possibly doing and how he is feeling.  If he is making friends and whether he is making good choices.  Wondering if he ate all his lunch and if he is being bullied at recess.  And the dichotomy is MIND BLOWING.

For me, parenting never ceases to surprise me.  The second I am somewhat comfortable with where we are at, and I feel as if I might possibly be getting into the groove of things...we free fall to the next level where everything is completely the opposite and no one has explained anything and yet everyone seems to be watching and quick to criticize if you don't get it right straight out of the shoot.

Roanin made it through the first day.  And even more shocking, so did I.  He was elated when I picked him up...with news of recess and PE, with the report of having his name on Super Student all day,  with directions about what he would like in his lunch the next day so he has time to finish it all before recess and with a toothless grin that tells me we made the right decision.

And even if we hadn't...it would all still be okay.  

Playing Ball

The oldest started tball this spring.  It was quite an experience for all of us.  

We all had different emotions going into it.  Roanin was excited with the idea of a new sport.  A few months before signups he was thrilled with the idea of baseball.  Shawn, having played baseball all of his life and even a stint in college, was over the moon.  From picking out the gear, to teaching Roanin the basics...this was right up his alley.  I was pretty excited myself, with the idea of one of a kid's rites of passage being upon us and kind of got lost in the idea of grass-stained white baseball pants and all kinds of gear laying around the house followed by junk food from the concession stand.

Once the season actually arrived, Shawn and I were still strong in our excitement for what we knew was going to be great.  Roanin, on the other hand, became timid and apprehensive about the experience and fought us about going and participating.  His little shy instincts reared their head and demonstrated their staying power.  

Each game was met with the same discussion.  Lots of excuses, concerns and tears were followed with listening, reassuring and eventually pushing.  As parents, we were really sucker punched with this one. Although Roanin has always been shy, he has recently started really preferring to stay home and in comfortable and familiar situations.  We found ourselves struggling not to turn into Dance Moms but also push our little boy to not shy away from things that scare him.  This often called for split second decisions of how to handle it in front of an entire team of his peers and their parents.  Yeah...that was fun.

That's my Roanin.  On base, with one toe holding his ground, as not to push the third baseman off.  *sigh*

We gently pushed, and he would eventually go and try.  And it was good.  

As I sat in the bleachers the first few practices and games, I noticed that this is like the start of the real world.  Up until now, Roanin has taken familiar, consistent and gentle directions mainly from Shawn and I.  The only exceptions being his school teachers and the leaders in any little activities.  But almost all the outside leadership has been female and as touchy-feely as you would expect from someone working with 5 year olds.  

The tball coaches were as sweet and as kind as they could be, but they are men.  And strangers.  And they aren't exactly trained in coddling and the skill of helicopter mothering.  They are like the training wheels of little boys entering the world.  The crutches used from the inside to the outside.  Watching good efforts and injuries from a foul ball being handled like they should be handled for a 6 year old boy about to start first grade was a little like riding a roller coaster for me.  I was simultaneously thrilled and scared shitless.  Watching my baby be challenged and watching him rise to the occasion was so amazing.  But silencing that weird voice in my head that was encouraging me to stop the game and run to him and dry his tears on third base was murder.  I just had to sit there on those fiberglass bleachers and feel my mommy heart stretch and tear a little bit so that we can both get to that next level.  

And the boy can HIT.  Catching and throwing were a little painful to watch, but that sucker knows how to swing a bat.  Even when they moved to farm pitch, he would pound one after the next.  But even with the skill to play the game, my little guy would quietly follow all of his team members from infield to out, from the batting box to the team circle.  Never first, almost always last.  

But he was there.  And he was growing.  And I was there.   And I was growing.  And I was quiet unless I needed to be otherwise.  

And I watched his shy little demeanor and I learned from it.  

This little guy was his number one fan.  

At one game, I finally succumbed to Rexy's requests to use my big camera.  He was thrilled.  Like 387 photos, thrilled.  

And I'm so glad I did.  There was something so delicious about watching my littlest demonstrating how enthralled he is with his brother and actually just being able to sit back and watch it play out.  

Of the 387 photos, he did get a couple of winners.  Like this one of Roanin running the bases.  

And this one....probably my favorite one of the season.

So twice each week, to and from the field, Shawn and I showed him our best versions of confidence and eagerness for challenge and opportunity and excitement for the possibility of fun.  Because things just seem easier when you have someone demonstrating them for you.  The hope is that he gains this skill now, when the stakes basically boil down to being included in the tball group picture, so that in the future, when he is hesitant to chase his dreams or hesitant to ask The One to marry him...he remembers how good it feels to sometimes let go and just let yourself rise to the occasion.  

And then he will have to completely relearn how to do it on the ball field of his first child's tball game.  

Thanksgiving 2012 - Framily Style

This Thanksgiving was AWESOME.  Like...maybe the best one I have ever had.  Let me explain...

 

I have been working with my therapist to move through my grief about my family stuff in the past.  One of the key points he has brought to my attention is that I have been unsuccessfully attempting to get water out of a stone.  Imagine being unbelievably parched...like you have walked through the desert...and each time you try to get some relief-some sweet, nourishing water-the big ole fat boulder that you try to squeeze gives you nothing.  nada.  zilch. 

His solution was simple.  Go to where the water is.

It turns out, the water is about a 12 hour car ride away.  So my sweet man did what I needed him to do, and he loaded everything up and drove me and my little munchkins to the biggest waterfall in the world (aka: Aunt Steph's house).

This girl.  We have been through it all...but finally decided to make it official and breach the friendship line and dive straight into sisterhood.  And boy, was that a good decision.

Steph and I cooked a monster meal while the kids all played and giggled and just did what cousins do.

The meal was so good and so big, Stephanie had to actually lay down mid-meal and just rest her bones.  That, my friends, is the sign of a good time. 

 

And just when we thought heaven couldn't get any better...the third piece of our famous threesome brought her little family as well.  And now we had more kids, more food and more fun.

 

This girl was Head Kid Wrangler and kinda deserves some sort of prize.

The day before we left, we even got to see MORE friends...which was bliss. 

The Coles lived near us in Waco, but now live just a half hour from Aunt Steph's house.  The kiddos hadn't seen each other in almost 2 years.  And just as we suspected...they picked up right where they left off.

I want to seriously gobble up Asha's squishy, sassy little face. 

It is crazy how when I finally stopped looking to the rock, I actually found that I am SURROUNDED by endless sources of water.  Patiently waiting on me to accept the gift they are willing to freely give.

And so, this year, I finally quenched my thirst.  I received the love from my framily (friend+family=framily) and it turns out it tastes better than anything I can remember.  It tastes like champagne and low expectations.  It smells like hot cocoa and unconditional love.  It sounds like giggles and heart felt compliments.  It feels like happiness.

 

THANK YOU, Stephanie, for waiting for me to get here and then welcoming us so warmly.  I can't wait til next year.

Chicago in pictures

Waaaaayyyyy back in September, our little family of four took a little trip to the windy city, Chicago.  We didn't really have a reason other than we wanted to.  We had nothing in particular to do, and no one in particular to see.  But as it turns out, we ended up doing all the coolest stuff and saw some of our favorite friends.  What a weekend...here it is in pictures.

We love you, Chicago.  And we will definitely be back.