First grade...

Sigh....my baby starts first grade tomorrow. Well, he's not technically a baby anymore, but he still is to me. Boy, it sure is hard to cut that cord. Our school district has 1/2 day Kindergarten, so this will be Brent's first time going to all-day school. I really am not ready for this - but I guess I have to swallow that lump in my throat and put my game face on for Brent's sake.

Here is a little story that Brent's Kindergarten teacher sent home to all of the parents last year (along with some Chamomile tea, to calm nerves). It really sums up how I feel right now - at the bottom of the beanstalk:

Thoughts at the Bottom of a Beanstalk

Once upon a time there was a little boy named Jack who was about to climb his very first beanstalk. He had a fresh haircut and a brand-new book bag.

Even though his friends in the neighborhood had climbed this same beanstalk almost every day last year, this was Jack's first day and he was a little nervous. So was his mother.

Early in the morning she brought him to the foot of the beanstalk. She talked encouragingly to Jack about all the fun he would have that day and how nice his giant would be. She reassured him that she would be back to pick him up at the end of the day. For a moment they stood together, silently holding hands, gazing up at the beanstalk. To Jack it seemed much bigger than it had when his mother had pointed it out on the way to the store last week. His mother thought it looked big, too. She swallowed. Maybe she should have held Jack out a year...

Jack's mother straightened his shirt one last time, patted his shoulder and smiled down at him. She promised to stay and wave while he started climbing. Jack didn't say a word.

He walked forward grabbed a low-growing stem and slowly pulled himself up to the first leaf. He balanced there for a moment and then climbed more eagerly to the second leaf, then to the third and soon he had vanished into a high tangle of leaves and stems with never a backward glance at his mother.

She stood alone at the bottom of the beanstalk, gazing up at the spot where Jack had disappeared. There was no rustle, no movement, no sound to indicate that he was anywhere inside.

"Sometimes," she thought, "it's harder to be the one who waves good-bye than it is to be the one who climbs the beanstalk." She wondered how Jack would do. Would he miss her? How would he behave? Did his giant understand that little boys sometimes acted silly when they felt unsure? She fought down an urge to spring up the stalk after Jack and maybe duck behind a bean to take a peek at what he was doing!

"I'd better not. What if he saw me?" She knew Jack was really old enough to handle this on his own. She reminded herself that, after all, this was thought to be an excellent beanstalk and that everyone said his giant was not only kind but had outstanding qualifications.

"It's not so much that I'm worried about him, "she thought, rubbing the back of her neck. It's just that he's growing up and I'm going to miss him."

Jack's mother turned to leave. "Jack's going to have lots of bigger beanstalks to climb in his life, "she told herself. "Today's the day he starts practicing for them...And today's the day I start practicing something too: cheering him on and waving good-bye!"

HAKUNA MATATA

Brent and I, along with my friend and her son, went to see Broadway's The LION KING today at the Academy of Music, in Philadelphia. I've wanted to see this play FOR EVER. I was hoping that I didn't regret the expense for my son's ticket, ouch -and the $4 chocolate chip cookie, that was the size of his head (that I finished off), the souvenirs and drinks, double ouch. But, this was an opportunity that I didn't want him (or me) to miss. Oh well, it's only money (ha!) and it was certainly worth every penny. I purchased these tickets a year ago and had nightmares that I forgot about the show and missed it or lost the tickets. I'm much better at buying tickets a month in advance, not a year in advance. I digress.

Anyhoo, I was worried that my son wouldn't get the symbolism in the play, but at one point I said, "Look the fabric is disappearing into the floor" and Brent responded "That's supposed to be the rivers and lakes drying up Mom" - well, DUH, I knew that (NOT). Sometimes our kids are smarter than we realize - and smarter than their parents.

I was Brent's age, almost 7, when I saw my very first 'real' play, Annie, and I still remember getting dressed up, going into the city and sitting in the red velvet seats in the theater. It was exciting for me as a kid and very cool to share this type of experience with my son. It was one of those times when I had to stop, take in the day, and realize the imprint it will have on my son's childhood memories.

One word to describe this play - SPECTACULAR. It totally earned its reputation. LOVED IT! LOVED IT! LOVED IT!

If you haven't seen it and the opportunity presents itself, don't miss it.

(If I figure out my camera glitch, I'll upload a few pics.)

The referral bug

Before Scott & I were married we talked a lot about family & what we envisioned our lives to be like - how many kids, public or private schools, SAHM vs. working mom, city or suburbs, etc. Even though we planned and I knew I wanted to have a family, I never had 'baby bug.' You know what I'm talking about - women flocking to stollers, going weak at the knees at the little bundles inside. I often wondered what was wrong with me. Wasn't I mommy material? But I knew I wanted a family that included kids. Anyhoo, after being married we decided to start trying for a baby. I wanted to get pregnant so badly - but seeing another baby still didn't send me into the baby frenzy. At times I wondered if I wasn't getting pregnant because I didn't have that infatuation with everything baby like my sisters, friends and coworkers did. Was there something wrong with me?

After many years of trying to get pregnant & lots of oh-so-fun-and-invasive fertility treatments, it worked. We were elated. Alas, I'd surely get the baby bug now. Nope. It just didn't happen. Don't get me wrong, I loved (and still love) my son more than life itself, but I never went gushy over babies, even after I had my own. I hope it doesn't sound cold to say that I was not sad to see my son's toddler years approach. Interacting with a child who communicates, immitates and plays is much more my thing. I definitely enjoyed being a mom more when my son was no longer a baby. Odd, I know.

Well, I may not ever get that baby bug - but I sure do have the referral bug. When referrals come out or I hear someone who is freshly DTC - OMG, I just want to start paperchasing again. I'm such a planner, not usually impulsive - but that's all down the crapper when I see those referral photos (yep, even with the 20 layers of puffy clothes and stoic expressions on their faces - even with the weird backdrops). God help me. I'm like an addict - obsessively checking message boards, offering sappy congrats to the new parents, who I don't know; crying at their excitement; checking message boards; dreaming of when we could start the process again.

It would be such a bad idea to add another child into our picture right now - I'm in school, Allison is so young and realistically I know my limitations. But, it still itches. Where and when does it end? Is there a support group for people like me? Maybe a patch I can wear? Oh my - this is one big ass bug, and it bit me hard.

For now, I'll settle for living vicariously through others - anxiously waiting for CCAA to send out the next batch of referrals & making more dreams come true.