All my little birdies have left the nest.

 Today is Jadzia's first day at school.

William rode his bike and I held Jadzia's hand on the short walk.  Both Adam and I had our cameras at the ready. When we got there it seemed the whole neighbourhood was on the blacktop.  Three maxed-out kindergarten classes together with their parents and teachers.  Jadzia had the biggest smile on her face.  She's a big girl now!

I gave my daughter hugs and warned her teacher that she was wearing underwear.  It's hard to say who was more excited, but it was probably me.

William's class went inside and the other class did too, but Jadzia's stayed in line at the door and Adam and I watched as her teacher took attendance. A senior kindergartner, Reagan, was chosen to take the attendance binder to the office. Since Reagan is one of Will's friends from last year and from soccer, she knows Jadzia and picked her to be her special helper.  Jadzia wasn't paying attention at first so I called her name, but Adam stopped me and said "you're not her Mom until 3:15." Sigh.

Reagan and Jadzia made an adorable pair, carrying the binder together. Adam and I left after that, but we forgot William's bike, so I was able to snap one last picture of Jadzia, waiting for the trikes to be released from the shed.

On playdates I'm used to seeing her with William's friends, next to them she is still the baby, always a bit shorter, often with her thumb in her mouth.  Today, standing alongside her classmates, she looked like a big kid.  She fit right in, not standing out as the youngest (though based on her birthday she probably is).  She's ready.  She knows her letters and how to print her name. She even knows how to use the washroom when she feels like it. My job here is done.

(Okay, I know that my job is not really done.  I'm still her Mom.  But things are definitely changing.)

The Jekyll and Hyde Phenomenon

This morning Adam and I went for a parent-teacher meeting at William's school.  Mrs. L raved about our boy. He knows most of his upper and lower case letters, and about half of the sounds they make. He can write out the numbers between one and ten all by himself.  He spends most of the time building things out of Lego and always has a new creation to show the class during share time.  When he does get around to putting pencil to paper, he creates wonderfully imaginative drawings with fantastical stories to go along will them. He's independent, cleans up after himself, and is happy playing with his friends or by himself.  I was pleased with the meeting, not because any of this is a surprise, but because Mrs. L seems to get William and genuinely appreciate him.  She also gets the sense that he enjoys his time at school.

So why, then, is it now our routine to have temper tantrums every school day? Sometimes he fusses about school itself, other times he invents other reasons to throw a fit.  Today he wanted to bring a toy that shoots missiles and we asked him to choose a more school-appropriate toy or even just leave the missile at home.  Giant meltdown.  He became way too upset to pick something else.  I ended up dragging him to school screaming.  I pulled him by his jacket, his back pack.  If I let him go he ran in the opposite direction.  When he made his legs go limp I had to pick him up. Then he punched and kicked me in the face.  He bit my knuckles to get me to let go.

This isn't separation anxiety.  He isn't being bullied.  There's no reason for this other than torturing his parents on a semiweekly basis.  Mrs. L says that the routine might stop when he's had a break for the summer and Jadzia goes with him in the fall. Anyone have a quicker solution?

The most stressful part of my day.

I live a two-minute walk from my son's school. It lets out at 3:15ish.

At 2:30, I get my daughter dressed. Regardless of whether I dressed her in the morning, by 2:30 she is without pants. This involves chasing her around the house waving a pair of pants and a pair socks and yelling "Come here Jadzia!"  She does not come when called.  The dog does though and he will always attempt to eat the socks.

Jadzia poos around the same time and I'm trying to toilet train her so that means rinsing out a pair of undies.   She will not poo on the potty. Ever.  A lot of the time she defecates immediately after I've dressed her and I have to dress her again.

Today she wants to wear her new one-piece snowsuit.  Once I start dressing Jadzia, our 50-pound puppy gets wind that we are going and runs up, wags his entire body, knocks my daughter over at least twice, and attempts to eat our hats/mitts/boots.  I leash him up in a harness that he hates but theoretically discourages him from pulling.

The alarm on my watch is set to 3 pm, just in case I forget the time.  It goes off just as we were heading out the door.

After five steps, Jadzia stops to play with the rocks in my neighbour's driveway. This patch of gravel is unremarkable to me, but she will not leave the area voluntarily.  At this point I have to carry her.  Have you ever tried to carry a three-year-old that doesn't want to be carried?  How about one wearing a one-piece snowsuit?  How about one-handed while holding the leash of a 50-pound puppy?

I somehow manage to carry Jadzia to the corner.  I put her down as soon as we cross the road.  Immediately she runs to examine something so close to the street that my heart does a somersault.  This time it was a branch.

The rest of the way I "hold Jadzia's hand", which in this case is code for holding her by her forearm to keep her from running into traffic.  She falls to her knees like a rag doll forcing me to drag her.  Of course I can't really drag her, so I have to pick her up again.

Meanwhile, Worf, the 50-pound puppy, jumps on every person that passes by. Children, parents, whoever. I chant "Sorry. Worf! Leave it! Hey! Sit! He won't bite. He's friendly. Sorry. Sorry" all the way to school.

I put Jadzia down once we reach the kindergarten door.  She does not stay near me, but we're not near the road so whatever.  She watches William get ready through the window, but when he comes out she runs into the fenced off area for kindergarten recess, or hides behind the fir trees next to the door.

By the time I gather her up, William is way ahead of me.  He either doesn't pay attention to where I am or doesn't care.  He wants to walk with his friend whose mother is much more efficient at wrangling children. In fact, all the mothers are better at wrangling their children, and their kids stay near them and listen to them.  Even their dogs behave.

I tell William to wait and Jadzia to hurry up.  I'm yelling into the wind and no one hears me.  I concentrate on Jadzia because I know William will not run into the road or do anything crazy. Jadzia stops to lick a metal signpost (seriously).  Luckily, it is not cold enough for her tongue to stick. I worry that it will be soon.

I'm so visibly frustrated at this point that a random woman stops to ask me if I'm okay.  I mumble that I am. Worf jumps on her daughter. I feel like the worst mother in the schoolyard.

When we finally get home the children dawdle at the end of the driveway.  They can tell I'm stressed and this makes them less obedient.  I have to count to five to get them to come in the door.  Once inside, they do not  give me space.

William's First Day of JK

Today was William's first official day of Junior Kindergarten, not including the open house we attended in the summer and the meet the teacher thing we did last week.  Today was a half day, to ease him into the routine I guess, not that he needs that much easing.  I'm the one who needs to get used to school, to become accustomed watching him walk through those blue double doors and then walking away.

 I was so excited to have some time minus one kid now I'm not sure how I feel about it.  I ambitiously tried to fill those few hours he was gone.  I took Jadzia to the store to buy shoes and nail polish. When we go home it was already ten. I had to pick up William at 11:15.  I tried to prepare tonight's dinner (pierogi lasagna) in advance but I barely got the filling done before we had to race out the door.  An explosive poop delayed our progress even more and I found myself rushing to the school (dragging my dog and daughter along).  I didn't want to be the parent who is late on the very first day.

 Luckily we got there with plenty of time (my watch said 11:15, but we still waited a couple minutes). William seemed in good spirits, but when asked about his day he said "I don't remember." I managed to drag out some tidbits. He played with cars, including one Hot Wheels car.  He played with scooters at recess. He didn't eat his whole snack because "he was already full."

Tomorrow, and forever more, William will go to school all the way to 3:15. Maybe I'll get some writing done. Maybe Jadzia will get the mother daughter time she's been missing. Maybe we'll be so busy that we won't notice the hole that he leaves when he's gone.

Meet the Teacher

Today was William's first meeting with his new teacher, Mrs. Leonard.  Though I attended with him, I was quickly shuffled into the corner to fill out forms while William was assessed on his drawing skills, his knowledge of letters and numbers, and his coloured-bear sorting ability.  I think he did well and Mrs. L agreed, but William was disappointed that he only got to "do boring stuff".  Next week, he was promised, there will be playing and there will be other kids.  Man, I wish I was going to junior kindergarten, it sounds like a blast.

After we got home, I tried to discuss the visit with my son.  I couldn't observe everything he and the teacher were doing and was curious. 
"I just don't remember!" William exclaimed.
"But it was only twenty minutes ago," said I.
Shades of years to come.