The successful playdate with Dylan has been really important to me, considering that Ivan doesn't seem to have made a friend at the preschool.
Last week, Ms. Person's said he's very busy running around and exploring everything there is to do--he apparently spends a lot of time at the art station, as his artwork proves--but that he plays on his own.
On Friday, when Andy went to pick up Ivan, he was in Ms. Fowler's arms, crying. (At least we know that they hold children when they're upset.) Apparently, Ivan wanted to sit on a bench next to some three boys. But there wasn't enough room for him to sit, or at least, that's what the boys said, so they wouldn't let him sit. He started crying. Ms. Fowler was trying to resolve the situation when Andy arrived.
Maybe I'm overexaggerating, but this friends issue is really upsetting me. At home, Ivan constantly says "all my friends" will come over. He said that while in daycare and he's repeated it now at preschool. But when I prod him who his friends are, or who he plays with, or who he'd like to come over to play--I had mentioned Dylan to him; the thought hadn't originated with him--he ignores me. He simply doesn't answer. It's like there's a disconnect between reality and his imagination, or at least his speech. And I'm not sure what to make of it sometimes.
I guess all we can do is help him make friends.
P.S. Actually, he did ask can Maya come over to play. He and Maya have a great time whenever they play. In general, he has a good time, when he's playing with another child, but if it's a group setting, then he balks a bit.
Monday, September 20, 2010
Allen stands up
For about two weeks, Allen's been trying to stand up.
Earlier this week he succeeded. On Wednesday, he lifted himself up on the bedrail in Ivan's bed.
And today, he truly mastered this new skill. He lifted himself up over and over again on the bedrail and on the coffee table. Then, as he was holding on to the coffee table, he tried flipping through a book.
But when I put him in the crib, instead of trying to lift himself up, he sat in it and started to cry. I guess that's the next milestone---figuring out that he can stand up in the crib as well.
Earlier this week he succeeded. On Wednesday, he lifted himself up on the bedrail in Ivan's bed.
And today, he truly mastered this new skill. He lifted himself up over and over again on the bedrail and on the coffee table. Then, as he was holding on to the coffee table, he tried flipping through a book.
But when I put him in the crib, instead of trying to lift himself up, he sat in it and started to cry. I guess that's the next milestone---figuring out that he can stand up in the crib as well.
Playdate with Dylan
On Saturday morning, Dylan came over for a playdate. Dylan is a boy from daycare. Finally, in the last few days of daycare I managed to pull it out of Ms. Norma and Ms. Rosa that Ivan plays with Dylan. I had to prod them, because they usually say that Ivan plays with everyone. That was probably the case, but I wanted to know whether he played with someone more than others. (Ms. Norma also eventually said that Ivan plays with Margaret. This didn't surprise me. Margaret and Ivan seemed to be the two socially-awkward peas in a pod. I always affectionately thought of them as the two little runts of the two, and then, the three year-old classroom. But I digress.)
Dylan's mom, Hillary, was excited that we invited them over. Apparently, she noticed as well that the two played together. Dylan has also been asking her where did Creighton, Emma and Ivan go. The answer: new schools. While it's tough for the kids making the transition into a new place, it must be even tougher and more confusing for those kids who stay behind.
The playdate was all I had dreamed of.
At first, I was apprehensive about it, considering the Sashi fiasco. I didn't want Ivan's feelings to get hurt. I was afraid that Ivan was going to pull out all the stops for Dylan, like he did for Sashi and that Dylan was not going to care. And Dylan's mom did warn me that Dylan had never been over to anyone's house other than a birthday party, so that he may be anxious.
Dylan was shy at first. For the first 15-20 minutes. And then they hit it off. They painted, played with trains, ate muffins that Ivan and I baked in the morning, somehow ended up in our bedroom to jump on our bed, played with trucks outside, went to the playground.....
I was overwhelmed with joy.
They were adorable, shouting and yelling, walking down the street and holding hands, then running across the field to the trail and playing on the playground.
They looked like the little two inseparable best friends, which was an experience I so desperately wanted for Ivan.
Dylan's mom was pleased as well. We'll plan another playdate soon.
P.S. I first noticed that it's probable that Ivan and Dylan get along at Sashi's birthday party, where they sat next to each other to eat cake. I watched them giggle, make faces and point to some bug on the window. "Bug, bug, gross," they yelled really loudly and laughed, alerting other kids to it.
Dylan's mom, Hillary, was excited that we invited them over. Apparently, she noticed as well that the two played together. Dylan has also been asking her where did Creighton, Emma and Ivan go. The answer: new schools. While it's tough for the kids making the transition into a new place, it must be even tougher and more confusing for those kids who stay behind.
The playdate was all I had dreamed of.
At first, I was apprehensive about it, considering the Sashi fiasco. I didn't want Ivan's feelings to get hurt. I was afraid that Ivan was going to pull out all the stops for Dylan, like he did for Sashi and that Dylan was not going to care. And Dylan's mom did warn me that Dylan had never been over to anyone's house other than a birthday party, so that he may be anxious.
Dylan was shy at first. For the first 15-20 minutes. And then they hit it off. They painted, played with trains, ate muffins that Ivan and I baked in the morning, somehow ended up in our bedroom to jump on our bed, played with trucks outside, went to the playground.....
I was overwhelmed with joy.
They were adorable, shouting and yelling, walking down the street and holding hands, then running across the field to the trail and playing on the playground.
They looked like the little two inseparable best friends, which was an experience I so desperately wanted for Ivan.
Dylan's mom was pleased as well. We'll plan another playdate soon.
P.S. I first noticed that it's probable that Ivan and Dylan get along at Sashi's birthday party, where they sat next to each other to eat cake. I watched them giggle, make faces and point to some bug on the window. "Bug, bug, gross," they yelled really loudly and laughed, alerting other kids to it.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Making friends
Ivan had a serious conversation with Andy over the weekend.
As they were walking through the park, with Mariposa in tow, Ivan asked about some people who were in the park. Andy said he didn’t know them. Ivan asked how do you go about meeting some body.
“Well, you have to go and introduce yourself. You say ‘Hi, I’m Ivan. What’s your name?’” Andy replied.
Ivan was really interested and intently listening, Andy said. Being an introverted child who’s just started a new preschool where he doesn’t know anyone, Ivan seems to be really attuned to this issue of how does one make friends and get to know people. We’ve both noticed this. Maybe children who are more extroverted just go and play with kids they don’t know, like Bella(s) or Seger, for example, while the more introverted ones reflect on this before they go and play. Who knows? This is one of those instances when I ask Ivan a straight question, I never get an answer. But this is definitely on his mind.
Tonight, when we talked about going to preschool tomorrow, Ivan said he would take a toy with him—at the beginning of the week at daycare, they’d take something for show-and-tell, a practice they don’t have at preschool, so maybe he was referring to that.
A little car with wheels, “so everyone will play with me, all boys and girls,” he said as he rolled over to sleep.
And earlier today, while Ivan and Andy were hanging out on the porch, our new neighbors across the street, whom we haven’t met yet, pulled up to the house. The young California blond got out of her red jeep. Ivan asked Andy if he knew her. Andy said no.
“Hey, what’s your name,” Ivan yelled out, trying to put Andy’s lesson into action.
As they were walking through the park, with Mariposa in tow, Ivan asked about some people who were in the park. Andy said he didn’t know them. Ivan asked how do you go about meeting some body.
“Well, you have to go and introduce yourself. You say ‘Hi, I’m Ivan. What’s your name?’” Andy replied.
Ivan was really interested and intently listening, Andy said. Being an introverted child who’s just started a new preschool where he doesn’t know anyone, Ivan seems to be really attuned to this issue of how does one make friends and get to know people. We’ve both noticed this. Maybe children who are more extroverted just go and play with kids they don’t know, like Bella(s) or Seger, for example, while the more introverted ones reflect on this before they go and play. Who knows? This is one of those instances when I ask Ivan a straight question, I never get an answer. But this is definitely on his mind.
Tonight, when we talked about going to preschool tomorrow, Ivan said he would take a toy with him—at the beginning of the week at daycare, they’d take something for show-and-tell, a practice they don’t have at preschool, so maybe he was referring to that.
A little car with wheels, “so everyone will play with me, all boys and girls,” he said as he rolled over to sleep.
And earlier today, while Ivan and Andy were hanging out on the porch, our new neighbors across the street, whom we haven’t met yet, pulled up to the house. The young California blond got out of her red jeep. Ivan asked Andy if he knew her. Andy said no.
“Hey, what’s your name,” Ivan yelled out, trying to put Andy’s lesson into action.
Allen sitting up
For the past week, Allen doing downward facing dogs, trying to stand up on his feet. He ends up turning around to sit. He's quite fast and skilled at it.
He's so eager to stand up and try to walk. If he's standing next to someone, like myself, he tries to straighten himself out, while holding on to me.
I have a feeling he'll be an out-of-the-crib climber. He's just so eager to go.
Someone told me that early walking and talking go hand in hand. It makes sense. He's soooo incredibly chatty, with such a huge range of sounds. I joke he'll be an orator or a politician. He "talks" so much, yet he doesn’t even have anything to say.
If I recall Ivan correctly, all he'd say was "goo, goo." Allen, on the other hand, is like one of those car sirens---there is an entire repertoire of noises he goes through.
He's very loud, with incredibly loud and shrill shrieks.
He also still doesn’t sleep through the night, but cries and wants to be nursed every few hours. I just have to suck it up for a few nights, and let him cry it out to break this habit. Otherwise, I’ll turn into a zombie.
He's so eager to stand up and try to walk. If he's standing next to someone, like myself, he tries to straighten himself out, while holding on to me.
I have a feeling he'll be an out-of-the-crib climber. He's just so eager to go.
Someone told me that early walking and talking go hand in hand. It makes sense. He's soooo incredibly chatty, with such a huge range of sounds. I joke he'll be an orator or a politician. He "talks" so much, yet he doesn’t even have anything to say.
If I recall Ivan correctly, all he'd say was "goo, goo." Allen, on the other hand, is like one of those car sirens---there is an entire repertoire of noises he goes through.
He's very loud, with incredibly loud and shrill shrieks.
He also still doesn’t sleep through the night, but cries and wants to be nursed every few hours. I just have to suck it up for a few nights, and let him cry it out to break this habit. Otherwise, I’ll turn into a zombie.
Saturday, September 4, 2010
Allen is after paper
No paper is safe around Allen, any more. He crawls for and toward the smaller scrap. To grab it, to put it in his mouth, to not let go of it.
Sent from my iPhone
First full day at preschool
Ivan was excited to be going to the "big boy school." How do I know? He didn't sleep well.
One last thing we had to take to preschool that we hadn't taken on Monday was a photo of us to have. Of course, despite my incessant photo-taking and thinking of myself as a photographer, we had no good photo of all of us (Ivan, Allen, Andy and myself, not to even think about Mariposa) available. It's either me and the kids, or more frequently and much better, Andy and the kids. The only photo of all of us, was the fuzzy, out-of-focus picture Andy's mom took and printed for me.
I gave Ivan three options-the fuzzy group photo, me with the kids, or Andy with the kids. He picked the fuzzy one of all of us. It pleased me that he wanted that one.
We were the first ones to arrive to school. This was good, as it's easier for Ivan to get acclimated to a new empty place than when the "party" is already in progress. (As I say, he always needs a pre-party time.)
We put everything in his cubby. He was excited to see his boots. He immediately noticed that his cubby didn't have a photo of him, whereas all other cubbies had a photo of their "owners" attached. I guess the photos were taken on Wednesday, when Ivan was at home. Mrs. Persons remarked how he immediately noticed that. She assured him his photo would be taken soon.
Then Ivan took off. He ran and explored the entire classroom, jumping and hopping and skipping around. It was like he was on this sugar high (and he had no sugar in the morning, just his regular cereal). Andy and I were stunned. It was too easy. He went to draw at the easel. He went to pee.
In the meantime another girl came in, who sat down with the teacher at the arts table to cut with scissors.
"I want to cut with scissors," Ivan said and sat down.
"Mama, you go a work now," he told me then, without looking at me, focusing intently on cutting his paper.
We got dissed.
"You want us to leave?" I said, just to double check.
"Yes."
Maybe Andy was right. Maybe he was done with daycare and ready to explore something new.
Maybe I don't give him enough credit. Maybe he's more resilient and less sensitive than I see him to be. He surprised us when he transitioned from the two to the three year-old classroom. I thought he'd have a really hard time leaving Ms. Yvonne and Ms. Azeb and that the transition would take weeks. Instead, they ended up transitioning him a week earlier than anticipated. He liked the three year-old classroom so much, he didn't want to return to his old one.
Andy called preschool around 11. Ivan was fine. There was no crying; they were impressed by him, whatever that meant.
Andy picked him up around 3:30. Ivan was at his cubby, checking it out. He did fine, Ms. Folwer said. He was jumping from one activity to the next and going to the bathroom every time they told him to without a problem. On the playground he fell and hurt his elbow. He cried a bit, but was fine. I hope someone hugged him.
He brought home two pieces of art--construction paper with holes. Apparently, he discovered and really liked the hole puncher.
Since it was early, Andy took him to work for the remainder of the work day. He was fascinated with the fax machine. He also asked Andy, "Why is she in your office?" referring to Anita who shares the office with Andy. She was present when Ivan posed that question out loud.)
One last thing we had to take to preschool that we hadn't taken on Monday was a photo of us to have. Of course, despite my incessant photo-taking and thinking of myself as a photographer, we had no good photo of all of us (Ivan, Allen, Andy and myself, not to even think about Mariposa) available. It's either me and the kids, or more frequently and much better, Andy and the kids. The only photo of all of us, was the fuzzy, out-of-focus picture Andy's mom took and printed for me.
I gave Ivan three options-the fuzzy group photo, me with the kids, or Andy with the kids. He picked the fuzzy one of all of us. It pleased me that he wanted that one.
We were the first ones to arrive to school. This was good, as it's easier for Ivan to get acclimated to a new empty place than when the "party" is already in progress. (As I say, he always needs a pre-party time.)
We put everything in his cubby. He was excited to see his boots. He immediately noticed that his cubby didn't have a photo of him, whereas all other cubbies had a photo of their "owners" attached. I guess the photos were taken on Wednesday, when Ivan was at home. Mrs. Persons remarked how he immediately noticed that. She assured him his photo would be taken soon.
Then Ivan took off. He ran and explored the entire classroom, jumping and hopping and skipping around. It was like he was on this sugar high (and he had no sugar in the morning, just his regular cereal). Andy and I were stunned. It was too easy. He went to draw at the easel. He went to pee.
In the meantime another girl came in, who sat down with the teacher at the arts table to cut with scissors.
"I want to cut with scissors," Ivan said and sat down.
"Mama, you go a work now," he told me then, without looking at me, focusing intently on cutting his paper.
We got dissed.
"You want us to leave?" I said, just to double check.
"Yes."
Maybe Andy was right. Maybe he was done with daycare and ready to explore something new.
Maybe I don't give him enough credit. Maybe he's more resilient and less sensitive than I see him to be. He surprised us when he transitioned from the two to the three year-old classroom. I thought he'd have a really hard time leaving Ms. Yvonne and Ms. Azeb and that the transition would take weeks. Instead, they ended up transitioning him a week earlier than anticipated. He liked the three year-old classroom so much, he didn't want to return to his old one.
Andy called preschool around 11. Ivan was fine. There was no crying; they were impressed by him, whatever that meant.
Andy picked him up around 3:30. Ivan was at his cubby, checking it out. He did fine, Ms. Folwer said. He was jumping from one activity to the next and going to the bathroom every time they told him to without a problem. On the playground he fell and hurt his elbow. He cried a bit, but was fine. I hope someone hugged him.
He brought home two pieces of art--construction paper with holes. Apparently, he discovered and really liked the hole puncher.
Since it was early, Andy took him to work for the remainder of the work day. He was fascinated with the fax machine. He also asked Andy, "Why is she in your office?" referring to Anita who shares the office with Andy. She was present when Ivan posed that question out loud.)
Friday, September 3, 2010
Graduate class?
The epiphany of where do I go next, what do I do next with my life that I was anticipating would become clear to me during my 19-week maternity leave with Allen never came, much to my disappointment.
Instead it might have kind of dribbled in—I’m still trying to decide whether this is it—at a doctor’s office in July while I was waiting my turn to be checked for what turned out be a humongous unfortunately placed underground “volcanic” zit on my breast. A consequence of nursing? Maybe, probably. But it was definitely not an abscess as I had feared when I rushed to make the doctor’s appointment. Opting not to read various pregnancy, baby, parenting, etc. magazines, I spotted an issue of Historic Preservation magazine. An odd choice for an ob-gyn waiting room, but well within my scope of interest. Historic preservation is one of these life-long affinities I have had, but have never acted on for different reasons.
I couldn’t get historic preservation out of my head since then. I considered starting a historic preservation blog. I even thought of a title (or does a blog have a name?): “yesterday’s places, today’s spaces.” Last week, I started trolling UMCP’s website, looking at their Historic Preservation courses. Last time I checked a few years ago, Historic Preservation used to be a Certificate. Now, it’s a Master’s program within the School of Architecture. I debated. Then on Monday night, on a whim, I composed an email to the head of the program who also teaches the intro graduate seminar whether it would be possible to attend a class. This is the first week of the fall semester. So it was either do it now, or wait until next year.
He responded first thing in the morning to come in.
I went to class last night. It was a test, a pilot of sorts. It was weird being in a classroom of 22 students, most of whom had obviously just finished their undergrad. They looked so young, so fresh. They asked stupid questions, but of key importance to them, about grading, and class work, and papers. Info that seemed so trivial to me. I felt old. “What am I doing here,” I wondered. I guess one doesn’t realize how much one has aged and matured until she’s put in a setting with actual, fresh-faced, young people. There was another older woman in the class. I’m sure she was older than me. I felt in between.
I loved the class. I loved the topics the professor went over. I loved the syllabus he covered. I loved the documentary about the move of Cape Hatteras, which really showed and summed up a number of issues in historic preservation. I loved the discussion that ensued, even though some of the cheeky, fresh-faced comments some students said made me realize that I’m too jaded, too older for the idealistic, open-minded, broad-based debate that universities foster. ‘Cause real life is more like high school than college, which is, unfortunately, the stark reality.
And now I find myself seriously considering signing up for the class as an Advanced Special Student. And then I promptly start doubting myself: Am I crazy? What am I doing? Why would I do this? This is so selfish. I can barely handle a full time job. I would anyway rather be at home than working, and now I want to add school to the mix as well? My guilt trip will consume me (well, at least the class is at night, when the kids are in bed, theoretically asleep, at least). If anything, I should devote myself more to work and building the career that I have underway now (in online communications) instead of starting something new. Would I be able to complete all the class work, readings, papers, and all? Do I want to do this? We can’t afford it. Andy’s tuition remission wouldn’t cover it. We don’t have $1800 for this: hello croaked A/C, what about new windows, how about a vacation within, let’s say, the next two years? And now I want to spend money on a class? To achieve what? Apply for another Master’s? And really go through the entire application process, GREs and all? What if I don’t get accepted? I can't afford another masters? Too expensive and too time consuming to do it part time. I’m just about to pay off my graduate student loans, and that soon-to-be freed up cash has already been slated to be put in a 529 plan for the kids, not for me.
I want to be there for the kids. They're growing up so fast. I want to be spending all my free time with them, not reading about decrepit buildings.
Yet I keep thinking about it. One of my life-goal plans has been to get a Ph.D. So I’m thinking maybe this is it. If I don’t get back in it now, when will I? I’m only getting older. Soon I'll be historic.
Other people’s midlife crises result in an affair, a red convertible, a boob job. Mine is manifesting itself as a return to school.
TBC
Instead it might have kind of dribbled in—I’m still trying to decide whether this is it—at a doctor’s office in July while I was waiting my turn to be checked for what turned out be a humongous unfortunately placed underground “volcanic” zit on my breast. A consequence of nursing? Maybe, probably. But it was definitely not an abscess as I had feared when I rushed to make the doctor’s appointment. Opting not to read various pregnancy, baby, parenting, etc. magazines, I spotted an issue of Historic Preservation magazine. An odd choice for an ob-gyn waiting room, but well within my scope of interest. Historic preservation is one of these life-long affinities I have had, but have never acted on for different reasons.
I couldn’t get historic preservation out of my head since then. I considered starting a historic preservation blog. I even thought of a title (or does a blog have a name?): “yesterday’s places, today’s spaces.” Last week, I started trolling UMCP’s website, looking at their Historic Preservation courses. Last time I checked a few years ago, Historic Preservation used to be a Certificate. Now, it’s a Master’s program within the School of Architecture. I debated. Then on Monday night, on a whim, I composed an email to the head of the program who also teaches the intro graduate seminar whether it would be possible to attend a class. This is the first week of the fall semester. So it was either do it now, or wait until next year.
He responded first thing in the morning to come in.
I went to class last night. It was a test, a pilot of sorts. It was weird being in a classroom of 22 students, most of whom had obviously just finished their undergrad. They looked so young, so fresh. They asked stupid questions, but of key importance to them, about grading, and class work, and papers. Info that seemed so trivial to me. I felt old. “What am I doing here,” I wondered. I guess one doesn’t realize how much one has aged and matured until she’s put in a setting with actual, fresh-faced, young people. There was another older woman in the class. I’m sure she was older than me. I felt in between.
I loved the class. I loved the topics the professor went over. I loved the syllabus he covered. I loved the documentary about the move of Cape Hatteras, which really showed and summed up a number of issues in historic preservation. I loved the discussion that ensued, even though some of the cheeky, fresh-faced comments some students said made me realize that I’m too jaded, too older for the idealistic, open-minded, broad-based debate that universities foster. ‘Cause real life is more like high school than college, which is, unfortunately, the stark reality.
And now I find myself seriously considering signing up for the class as an Advanced Special Student. And then I promptly start doubting myself: Am I crazy? What am I doing? Why would I do this? This is so selfish. I can barely handle a full time job. I would anyway rather be at home than working, and now I want to add school to the mix as well? My guilt trip will consume me (well, at least the class is at night, when the kids are in bed, theoretically asleep, at least). If anything, I should devote myself more to work and building the career that I have underway now (in online communications) instead of starting something new. Would I be able to complete all the class work, readings, papers, and all? Do I want to do this? We can’t afford it. Andy’s tuition remission wouldn’t cover it. We don’t have $1800 for this: hello croaked A/C, what about new windows, how about a vacation within, let’s say, the next two years? And now I want to spend money on a class? To achieve what? Apply for another Master’s? And really go through the entire application process, GREs and all? What if I don’t get accepted? I can't afford another masters? Too expensive and too time consuming to do it part time. I’m just about to pay off my graduate student loans, and that soon-to-be freed up cash has already been slated to be put in a 529 plan for the kids, not for me.
I want to be there for the kids. They're growing up so fast. I want to be spending all my free time with them, not reading about decrepit buildings.
Yet I keep thinking about it. One of my life-goal plans has been to get a Ph.D. So I’m thinking maybe this is it. If I don’t get back in it now, when will I? I’m only getting older. Soon I'll be historic.
Other people’s midlife crises result in an affair, a red convertible, a boob job. Mine is manifesting itself as a return to school.
TBC
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Goodbye daycare
Today was Ivan's last day at daycare. He didn't want to go in this morning. I wasn't sure why--whether because he knew it would be the last day (this seems like something he would be sensitive and attune to), or because he spent yesterday home with Didi and Allen to recover from his fever (which I still have no clue where it came from).
He wanted to take a book along. It's big book about cars and trucks that he got for his birthday but has only recently--like yesterday--expressed interest in reading.(He actually sat on his bed yesterday voluntarily and by himself to peruse the book. I was impressed. A new behavior.) Andy called to say the drop off went well, although he didn't want to go and play with kids but sat with Ms. Rosa to read the book.
We arrived with cupcakes and juice boxes at 3:15 as planned. The kids were up and sitting around the table. Since Ivan's chair faces the door, he saw us through the window. A big grin flooded his face. Not many kids were in daycare--Sashi, Dylan, Zachary, Margaret, Morgane, Erika and Ivan.
Ms. Rosa said that Ivan was telling everyone the entire day that we were going to come and bring cupcakes. I guess they were expecting us.
Andy and I opened the cupcakes and juice to serve everyone. Ivan helped us. He gave a cupcake to Ms. Norma but said she has to wait to eat it until Ms. Rosa came back from the bathroom run with two kids. Later, he gave a cupcake to Ms. Elta.
Everyone had cupcakes. Then the kids ran around and danced. Everyone danced but Ivan, although both Ms. Norma and Rosa say that Ivan dances a lot....but apparently not in front of his parents or at home.
Ms. Azeb stopped by to say hi as did Ms. Claudette. We went to the infants' room to say bye to Ms. Aletha.
I wrote thank you cards to give to Ms. Rosa, Ms. Norma and Ms. Elta who were his “butterfly” room teachers. Ms. Rosa really appreciated the card.
Although I was very emotional--as were all the teachers, who kept telling us that he's such a sweet boy and that they'll miss him immensely--tears didn't come. I spent the last few days fearing that I'd break down and start crying. I guess all the emotional prepping of the last few weeks paid off. I'm more at peace than I thought I'd be.
I took plenty of pictures of the classroom and the kids. Everyone was cooperative except Ivan who refused to be in the group picture. I think we somehow managed to include him, even though he was kicking and screaming.
Then we packed up his stuff, Ms. Rosa gave us a few remaining pieces of artwork, and that was it. We left. We left daycare for good.
Later at home, I told Ivan again that tomorrow he goes to the big boy school. He nodded and acknowledged it. He said he wanted to go. I asked him whether he wanted Medic to come along like on Monday. He said no. He wanted Medic to stay home with Didi and Allen. But when I tucked him to bed tonight, he asked for Medic, although lately he hasn't been falling asleep with him.
I still wonder whether he understands the finality of daycare and whether he cares. He must have. I'm inferring this from his need for Medic. I found it interesting that the other day (or was it this morning?) when I asked about daycare he mentioned Emma and Creighton, who are two four year-olds who recently, over the last few weeks, also left daycare to start a preschool. He's talked about Emma and Creighton in the past a lot as well because he's been at daycare with them all this time, so their mention might not have meant anything. Or maybe it meant something. I found it interesting. I told him that Creighton is no longer at daycare but is now going to another big boy school. I don't know if Ivan registered that.
On a personal note what really hurts--although this is really stupid, petty and so not relevant to a three year-old, and really says more about me than anything else--is the fact that Emma and Creigthon are going to the same preschool and are in the same class. I think they were good friends at daycare, mainly because they, along with Isabella C. and Sashi, were the oldest kids who've been at the daycare since they were all infants. And now at this new preschool, they will have each other. I also believe their parents are friends (or have gotten friendly through daycare) and that they do playdates outside daycare. All this will ensure nice continuity for them. Ivan doesn't have that. No continuity, no best friend, no nothing....for him. He starts from scratch.
Good bye daycare. We will miss you. At least I will.
He wanted to take a book along. It's big book about cars and trucks that he got for his birthday but has only recently--like yesterday--expressed interest in reading.(He actually sat on his bed yesterday voluntarily and by himself to peruse the book. I was impressed. A new behavior.) Andy called to say the drop off went well, although he didn't want to go and play with kids but sat with Ms. Rosa to read the book.
We arrived with cupcakes and juice boxes at 3:15 as planned. The kids were up and sitting around the table. Since Ivan's chair faces the door, he saw us through the window. A big grin flooded his face. Not many kids were in daycare--Sashi, Dylan, Zachary, Margaret, Morgane, Erika and Ivan.
Ms. Rosa said that Ivan was telling everyone the entire day that we were going to come and bring cupcakes. I guess they were expecting us.
Andy and I opened the cupcakes and juice to serve everyone. Ivan helped us. He gave a cupcake to Ms. Norma but said she has to wait to eat it until Ms. Rosa came back from the bathroom run with two kids. Later, he gave a cupcake to Ms. Elta.
Everyone had cupcakes. Then the kids ran around and danced. Everyone danced but Ivan, although both Ms. Norma and Rosa say that Ivan dances a lot....but apparently not in front of his parents or at home.
Ms. Azeb stopped by to say hi as did Ms. Claudette. We went to the infants' room to say bye to Ms. Aletha.
I wrote thank you cards to give to Ms. Rosa, Ms. Norma and Ms. Elta who were his “butterfly” room teachers. Ms. Rosa really appreciated the card.
Although I was very emotional--as were all the teachers, who kept telling us that he's such a sweet boy and that they'll miss him immensely--tears didn't come. I spent the last few days fearing that I'd break down and start crying. I guess all the emotional prepping of the last few weeks paid off. I'm more at peace than I thought I'd be.
I took plenty of pictures of the classroom and the kids. Everyone was cooperative except Ivan who refused to be in the group picture. I think we somehow managed to include him, even though he was kicking and screaming.
Then we packed up his stuff, Ms. Rosa gave us a few remaining pieces of artwork, and that was it. We left. We left daycare for good.
Later at home, I told Ivan again that tomorrow he goes to the big boy school. He nodded and acknowledged it. He said he wanted to go. I asked him whether he wanted Medic to come along like on Monday. He said no. He wanted Medic to stay home with Didi and Allen. But when I tucked him to bed tonight, he asked for Medic, although lately he hasn't been falling asleep with him.
I still wonder whether he understands the finality of daycare and whether he cares. He must have. I'm inferring this from his need for Medic. I found it interesting that the other day (or was it this morning?) when I asked about daycare he mentioned Emma and Creighton, who are two four year-olds who recently, over the last few weeks, also left daycare to start a preschool. He's talked about Emma and Creighton in the past a lot as well because he's been at daycare with them all this time, so their mention might not have meant anything. Or maybe it meant something. I found it interesting. I told him that Creighton is no longer at daycare but is now going to another big boy school. I don't know if Ivan registered that.
On a personal note what really hurts--although this is really stupid, petty and so not relevant to a three year-old, and really says more about me than anything else--is the fact that Emma and Creigthon are going to the same preschool and are in the same class. I think they were good friends at daycare, mainly because they, along with Isabella C. and Sashi, were the oldest kids who've been at the daycare since they were all infants. And now at this new preschool, they will have each other. I also believe their parents are friends (or have gotten friendly through daycare) and that they do playdates outside daycare. All this will ensure nice continuity for them. Ivan doesn't have that. No continuity, no best friend, no nothing....for him. He starts from scratch.
Good bye daycare. We will miss you. At least I will.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
Posts
