Penny has inherited my tastes, my propensity for cavities and my love of art (I can only hope). She has also inherited a lifelong friendship. She will meet many people and she will make many friends over the upcoming years but to know what a lifelong friendship should look like, should feel like is the best gift I can give my daughter.
Girls develop faster than boys. Remember whispering to your best friend about your crush while watching him practice loogies with his friends? Or towering over him in fifth grade?
Penny is developing faster than Lucas. At the age of 5 Lucas dressed himself, brushed his own teeth and was relieved of emotional outbursts and tantrums. Nearing the age of 5 Penny has been dressing herself since she was 3, brushing her own teeth for over a year and is overwhelmed by emotions leading to outbursts and tantrums.
She asks a million questions. She needs to understand the who, the what, the where, the when and the how. She is self-aware and self-conscious, already. She will dance and shout and let it all out, at home. She is shy. She will not insert herself into a group or situation, she will wait. And this is where I come in; I observe and I freak out. My daughter who should be “free-spirited” at this age is becoming shy and therefore must be lacking in self-confidence.
Described by her teacher as “quietly confident” I decide to let go of my preconceptions and see my child. She doesn’t insert herself into a group because she doesn’t care to. If it appears to me that she is left out it is because she chooses not to be included.
My daughter impresses me. On the verge of becoming 5 she is handling the constant onslaught of emotions and impulses as best as she can. She is sorting, categorizing and prioritizing; some she can dismiss, some require tears, some require a tantrum and some require Mommy to see her, hear her and comfort her. Some just need attention.
Mrs. Pearson was right in the middle of explaining sentence structure when a man, presumably his father, walked into the classroom and explained to Mrs. Pearson that Otis needed to leave early that day. Otis was surprised. Early dismissal? What kid doesn’t love a reason to leave school early? Could it mean a doctor or dentist appointment? Could it mean an early start to vacation? On this day it meant the worst thing possible. Otis didn’t return to school for a week. On the day he returned he found a stack of cards and letters we, his fourth grade classmates, had written with all the sensitivity and earnestness a 10 year old can comprehend. Some had drawings of flowers and rainbows, soccer balls and sunshine and some included words. I cannot recall what I wrote on mine but I do remember the silence that fell on the classroom when Otis walked in, looked at the cards and letters stacked on his desk and with bottom lip trembling managed to say “Thank you”.
Otis smiled a lot. You could say it was a goofy, unassuming and unwitting smile but it was almost always on his face. One day we were partnered up sharing a workbook. Unintentionally he had me in stitches. And you know how when you’re not supposed to laugh you laugh even harder and longer? Afterwards my friends teased Otis must now be my boyfriend to which I shrugged with annoyance.
I remember Otis’ mom coming to school one day. I remember her because unlike all the other fourth grade moms she was stunning. Impeccably dressed, beautiful and young.
After his mother’s death Otis rarely smiled. He kept mostly to himself and I couldn’t find the courage to say much of anything. Then one day Mrs. Pearson told us Otis moved away.
I wonder what ever became of Otis.
Bump…bump…bump. Faster and faster becoming a blur of pink, kind of. With helmet, gloves and Hello Kitty rain boots she’s invincible. After a few falls testing the edges nothing scares her now. Nothing in the security of our sidewalks and nearby cul-de-sac.
Each day spent scootering further validates the arrival of Spring.
“In the spring, at the end of the day, you should smell like dirt.”
– Margaret Atwood
Just last night I was wondering why I never learned to sew, remembering as a child that every Mom knew how to sew while now I can count on one hand the number of people I know that know how to sew.
Maybe this is why…
“You can cut all the flowers but you cannot keep Spring from coming.”
– Pablo Neruda
Me: Oliver what are you drawing?
Oliver: Bananas
Me: Looks like a rainbow
Oliver; (emphatically) No, its bananas!
Here’s what we think of you Winter! Your reign has finally ended!
The thought of a walkabout inspires and scares me: What do I document? Buildings? People? What if there are no interesting people around? Will my photos be reminiscent of those taken by an Indiana tourist circa 1998? Or worse, will they look like I’m trying too hard? Am I going to come home disappointed, finding I just wasted an afternoon in the city?
Spontaneity reduces pressure. So with an hour to kill before the National Portrait Gallery opens and Ali with her camera by my side I navigated my first walkabout.
Do you remember the first time you held hands with a boy? I do, it was when we did our first partner dance during P.E. I remember the giggles from all the girls and the eye rolling from all the boys. And I will never forget the butterflies in my belly when I got to partner with Keith McDonald, my first grade crush. Partner dances, particularly the Square dance, was my favorite P.E. activity throughout elementary school. 
First grade for Lucas hasn’t given us many opportunities to visit school so we were excited when the invitation to the first grade music concert came home. It started as I expected with the kids singing songs in unison with synchronized motions and gestures. Lucas mastered the art of singing the song while looking excruciatingly bored. Then the kids partnered up and the whole dynamic changed. Boredom shifted to focus and even a few smiles betrayed Lucas’ “too cool for school” vibe. The concert ended with the parents joining in and my sweet little Lucas was back.
Cool Lucas
“anxious, tired, excited”
Dear Winter,
You are relentless, you are tiresome and have long overstayed your welcome. You should be gone by now but here you are, lingering. You have grown wearisome. Your purpose has come and gone. Christmas decorations are down, snowmen have melted and hot chocolate swirls in my gut. Kids have flushed ice cubs and worn pajamas inside out for the wish of snow. Kids now sigh with acceptance at the announcement of more snow. Get it? Even kids are done with snow. This recent snow you pushed unto Spring came with barely a nod of acknowledgement, from the kids! Am I getting through to you? You must release your hold on Spring and let her breathe and shine.
Bitterly,
Susan
Spring – March 23, 2012
Our Everyday 