Back to school and all seven are off to experience a new one. They were up, dressed, breakfast, lunches packed, and out the door about 45 minutes too early. I had to hold them back. Finally, after the 23rd, "is it time, yet?" we all walked (or ran) to school. In the school yard they all found their classes' meeting spots, more or less. The bell rang and off they went. No tears, no hesitation, just smiles, waves and a few "I love you's".
Home they came will all sorts of information about classmates, teachers, do's and don't's, forms (uugghh!) and stories. I listened, laughed, and had to ask a few questions, myself. A fairly seamless transition, or so I think. Some go off to play and some have homework. We have dinner together and play "high-low" (your "high" and "low" points at school). More laughter. Dessert, story and bedtime. Still no bumps, however, something doesn't seem right. I try to ignore the mother instinct and sit down at my computer to work a bit. It is 10PM.
Then I hear the foot steps. I know who it is immediately. It is Olivia: our oldest, my moral compass, the old soul, my pillar of strength, my go-to, the risk-taker. With her tears ready to pour, I say the words, "You ok, Hun? What's wrong?". She can't even speak and out they flow.
On my lap I pull her tight and at the same time look over her shoulder at my computer screen and at the "to-do" list for the evening. I shut my eyes tight. She is really upset. I open them again. Sooooo much to do and still get up at 5am to run and get ahead of the kids for the day. She sniffles and shakes a bit and that pulls me back to what is important. My saying, "there are no do-overs" screams in my head. I ask if she wants me to cuddle with her in bed for a while. She says "Yes. But you have work, Mom.". It's ok, Lu. You are way more important. "But it's 10 o'clock, Mom.". Up we go to her room, with her clutching ever so tightly every bedtime lovey she could find.
As I walk up the stairs I coach myself. Don't try to fix it or change it. Just listen and mirror her. We climb into bed she spills all her concerns, worries, anxieties, frustrations and fears. And also the fact that she is angry that she is even like this. I tell I understand and mirror back all that she said. "So, you are worried about remembering everything that you have to do"...
"So, you do not think that you will relate to anyone"... "So, you are overwhelmed at all there is to take in". And so on and so on. One last sniffle and I hear her exhale. Out it came. Now she talks and talks and talks. I listen and listen and listen. She amazes me.
Once it is all out, she relaxes even more. I hear some joking in her voice about her view of kids, procedures, her teacher's recount of her own embarrassing moment. I share with her my worries and anxiety when watching all of them in the school yard and we are able to joke with her about her brother George and how his only concern he was finding his teacher, locker and homeroom. "He's all business," she says. "That's George!" We laugh.
I take the risk to give advice and ask her if it is ok. I break down school into 3 areas and go through them to try to simplify it for her. Academic? No problem. You got a handle on it all and you are one of the most disciplined and organized 6th graders (and people) I know. Social? It will take some time to make friends. That is what friendship is all about. Remember, you have 3 really good friends that you have had outside of school since you were 3 years old. These are friendships you will always have no matter what happens from 8:25 to 2:55 at school. She smiles. The logistics and all the other stuff? Think about how much you know and will remember in the morning. You know your teacher and where to find your homeroom. You know where your locker is and how to open it. You now have your schedule written down and know where to go. Three things you know and probably more. She adds to the list and starts to rub my arm. "Thanks, Mom."
I make one last suggestion that she come up with a fun word or saying that she can repeat to herself if she gets overwhelmed and it will remind her of our conversation and the comfort. I say, "how about Rocky Road Ice cream." She says, "Soccer Rocks.". That's my Lu. I close my eyes and we talk a bit more. Now, I exhale and begin to fall asleep.
I catch myself and tell her that I need to go to bed. It is now after 11pm. She gives me a big hug and thanks me so much. I tell her that it is me that should thank her. That she gave me yet another gift. A gift to be there for her and to feel needed. I will have that forever. As I leave the room, we both whisper at the same time "Good night. Soccer Rocks."
With out getting too deep into this one, like should we even encourage our kids to believe in yet another fictitious character that brings them things, or better yet, pays them for their teeth......
Anyway, we settled on an apple and something to drink. As it turned out, the timing was right. She came last night, ate the apple, had the drink, took the tooth, left a buck, and answered all of Evelyn's questions, along with a note of her own.
