Graduation! (Bring Your Own Airquotes)

My baby boy "graduated" from preschool! Honestly, I expected to be overcome with motherly emotion, that kind where pride, anxiety about the future, and the sense of ceremony combine to set an unmistakably emotional scene. Or is that just me? No? Anyway, I expected there to be tears, but it really wasn't much of a ceremony (as is appropriate, I believe, for preschool). Miss Anne called each kid out the side door onto the deck, one by one, handed him/her a certificate, and sent the little ones to stand in line for a picture. Then we had a potluck dinner. And cake. I did tear up once when we arrived, but really, that was the only opportunity I had because here's what happened.

Duncan, who had talked excitedly about "graduation" all week, at home and at school, was overcome with anxiety, possibly sadness, and an overwhelming sense of pissiness for the actual event. Look at these faces:  

  

Then, once the "ceremony" was over, and the girls turned back into tomboys, and teachers turned back into teachers, and he was cautious but relieved.

And finally, he was won over by the opportunity to spend extra time in the sand.

In the end, he had a great time and allowed us a few extra do-overs with the camera. This is a MUCH better one for the archives.

Well, baby boy (because you will always be my baby boy, even if you fight it every time I dare speak the words), welcome to Kindergarten! 

You Get What You Get: A Parable in Three Acts

Act I:

When Duncan was three, I picked him up from daycare on his last day before summer vacation. It was unseasonably warm, and the teachers were herding the children outside with a cache of popsicles. Since Duncan was obviously excited, I sat down so he could stay and enjoy his popsicle. As the children lined up to receive their icy treats, one of the teachers reminded them "You get what you get so don't get upset." I've since figured out that this might be a common mantra among those who deal with the under 5 set, but I had never heard it before. Over the next several weeks, it came up a few times in our house. Sometimes, Duncan whined about something, and I replied "You get what you get so don't get upset." Sometimes, an adult harmlessly complained, and Duncan chimed in with his reminder. For a few nights, it was a fun bath game. We took turns:  one of us stated our disappointment while the other reminded us to be thankful for what we had. "Aw. I wanted chocolate ice cream, but I got this broccoli."  "You get what you get so don't get upset."

Act II:

Last Christmas, I worked extra hard to be Martha Stewart. Well, I would never really want to BE Martha, but you know. Everywhere you look, television, magazines, and movies tell you that that's what you should be, what you should want. I was racing around trying to finish shopping, wrapping, baking, and decorating while simultaneously trying to provide memorable holiday experiences for my child. We cut down a tree, went to a tree festival, baked cookies together, and wrote a letter to Santa. Sometimes, it was fun, and sometimes it was disappointing. I had ideas of what constituted a memorable Christmas, but they didn't necessarily match Duncan's definition of a good time. On Christmas Eve, we let him open a few gifts from us so that he wouldn't be too overwhelmed on Christmas morning. My little bookworm opened his first package, a book by one of his favorite authors, and exclaimed with obvious disappointment, "A BOOK?!!!," while he tossed the gift across the floor. It was an uncomfortable moment, but we all pulled it together and enjoyed the rest of Christmas eve and Christmas morning.

(It is a good time to mention that Duncan is usually charming and well mannered but had a bad case of the terrible 3's. In addition, he was on his way to being expelled from preschool. As it turns out, he is well on his way to an AD/HD diagnosis, having missed the pediatrician's criteria by one question on the parent surveys. He is easily overwhelmed by sensory stimuli and has an attention span of approximately one nanosecond.)

The next day we went to my parents' house for Christmas. With two children and six adults and a crowded living room full of gifts, Duncan wasn't interested opening anything. He shut down. He opened a few gifts and then glazed over. We tried to engage him in his gifts, but he would have none of it. Finally, Jamie took Duncan into the next room, where it was quieter, and they played with various construction toys while everyone else opened presents. Slowly, over the course of the day (and maybe into the next day if I remember correctly), Duncan opened the rest of his gifts, with no audience and little fanfare. I was heartbroken. I didn't know what was wrong with my child, but all I wanted was for him to have a happy Christmas. I felt like a terrible mother because my child was so distraught about Christmas and a terrible daughter because I couldn't give my parents the enjoyment of watching their grandchild open Christmas presents. It was a difficult couple of days. 

As we were driving home, it hit me, like the proverbial ton of bricks. You get what you get so don't get upset. I didn't have the picture perfect Christmas, but we had some good times. I couldn't make it work for the grandparents, but Duncan was not unhappy. Once he was removed from the noise, and the people, and the "stuff" that left him feeling so overwhelmed, he actually played happily. He had a good time, and isn't that what Christmas is all about, Charlie Brown? It was Christmas, and he was happy. That was more than enough.

Act III:

The tendency to Martha-ize Christmas is strong in me. I LIKE the baking and the projects and the shopping and making crafts with Duncan and watching his eyes light up when he watches a video from Santa. I continue to build expectations of what the holiday SHOULD be, but I am working hard to fight them. I realize that I can't craft the perfect holiday moment any more than I can make a 4 year old sit still when there is ice cream in the room. As we pitch ourselves forward, full throttle, into the holiday season, I need to live in the moment. When the good ones happen, like today when we watched Duncan's personalized video from Santa, I have to burn them into my memory. When he's not excited about something I expected him to enjoy, I have to let it go and move on. The holiday is not about my expectations. It's about enjoying family time. Duncan is who he is, and we love him. You get what you get so don't get upset; all that matters is for me to hold him, and love him, and thank the world for bringing this perfect comet of energy into my life.

Duncan's Hat (Still Making Stuff)

Duncan asked me to knit him a hat "with stripes." One day after school we went together to the yarn store, where he picked out three colors of Polar Fleece yarn.  He watched with keen interest as the hat grew each day, and two mornings ago he awoke to find his new hat at the breakfast table. "I love you Mama for knitting this hat for me," he gushed. I sent him off to school in his new hat. When I picked him up, Miss Anne said "Duncan LOVES that hat. He wore it all day. He wore it at lunch. He wore it during his nap." I was touched; I didn't really start the project looking for that kind of response. I just wanted to knit the kid a hat, since I'm working so hard to knit things for other people. I was more than touched; I was thrilled.

And then I looked at Duncan, who was wearing a paper bowl, painted green, upside down on his 

head - his leprechaun hat. I grabbed the Polar Fleece and his lunch box out of his cubby and drove the leprechaun home.

Festival of Trees

Duncan's preschool has an intergenerational program with the local retirement community, Noble Horizons. Ever other week, the preschool kids go to Noble Horizons for activities and snacks (always, it seems, graham crackers and apple juice). Noble Horizons also hosts an annual festival of trees. Residents and local schools and business people donate decorated trees, which are displayed during the week after Thanksgiving. Then the trees are sold in a silent auction. We stopped at Noble Horizons last weekend to see the tree that Housatonic Child Care Center decorated, and Duncan tried to show us which ornaments he made. It was fun to see the wide variety of decorating styles.

Here's the HCCC tree:

And a few of my other favorites...a pressed flower tree.

A Tiger Woods tree, which probably netted a hefty profit after the scandal:

My favorite was this organic, entirely natural tree. If we didn't own so many ornaments with sentimental value, I'd be tempted to do this myself. Maybe some year I'll decorate a small tree like this one.

On our way out of Noble Horizons, we ran into none other than Santa himself! There was an awkward moment as he was dressed in his suit but carrying his street clothes, but Duncan didn't notice, and Santa took it in stride. Duncan was a little too shy to talk to him, but Santa admitted he hadn't received Duncan's letter yet. We said we'd see him this weekend (at the Amenia tree lighting). That Santa gets around. For the rest of the afternoon we chuckled about how funny it was to run into Santa at Noble Horizons. What a great way to ring in the holidays!