Pre school. My little man has never been so proud of anything as he is about the fact that he goes to school. P loves to tell people about his school, and his blue back pack it has a monster on it. When you're 3 and 4, school is awesome. Of course he starts at 8:30 and only goes until 11:15. So three hours, 3 days a week. Little does he know they will only add the hours up over the years, but then maybe in college he can get a sweet schedule like that again. I don't remember much from pre-school. I remember laughter fun, recess, and the loft full of stuffed animals that was in the classroom. I've always tried to avoid drama, I suppose.
P however is very dramatic and very serious. I'm sure I will post about what he is like while playing soccer soon, as soccer season just started again. His preschool operates with a drive thru system. It's pretty sweet, and I love it, so I pick him up, get a quick ear full from the teacher about the day and we head out on our way. I try to get some info from him about the day on the way home. we talk about snack, recess, and his friends during this time. It surprises me how little he wants to talk about the things he learned that day at school, or his friends. We always start with snack. At the beginning of 2014 on one such pick up his teacher informed me that he had become pretty close with a little girl. Each month at sing they sit next to each other as the class performs for their parents. Its quite cute. Earlier this month his little lady went on vacation, he asked if she would be back everyday I brought him until she was. At the end of the week she was back we had this conversation on the way to the boyfriends.
P: I really miss (little girl). *insert dramatic 4 year old sniffle here.*
Me: Well isn't she back from vacation you got to play with her just this morning right?
P: Yes, but I love her.
Me: Well don't you love me too, you get to spend the weekend with Mommy. (I walked right into the trap)
P: No, I only love her.
It pierced my heart and I couldn't help but envision the never ending amount of romantic doom, and broken hearts that will someday befall my sweet little, love sick man. It must be hard to be little. I mean there is SO much he has to learn about life, and love. Friends and enemies. There is only so much you can teach a child. As it turned out though maybe this little girl isn't quite the threat to my position as his main gal.
The following week at the end of the week I picked him up from school. The conversation went as such on the short drive home.
Me: Did you play with ___ today?
P: No we are not friends any more.
Me: Did you choose that? Are you sure you don't want to be friends with her anymore?
P: She was playing with someone else.
Me: Did you ask her to play with you today?
P: She didn't want to.
As it turns out they did play again, but I don't know where his heart lies. He talks about her less, she plays with the girls more, and he seems to be making a few new friends. I sing him the friendship song, but I doubt it makes much sense. I use to sing it in girl scouts but I'm not sure it made a lot of sense to me until I was older, and began to cultivating friendships, and realized that some while existent slip to the back burner. I just hope I can teach him to be patient with people, and that while one of his friends doesn't want to play with him one day, doesn't mean they don't want to on another day. I also hope he grows up more fearless than I was in my school age. Making friends was always hard, the simple going up to a classmate and asking if they wanted to play was never easy for me. I hope it is for him. I also hope he realizes he has enough capacity to love so that he cultivates more meaningful friendships through his life. Those are all lessons that he cant learn from school I guess. Just age an experience.
In other news, and another topic that is soon to come I am sure. I am about to be making the switch from mostly at home mom, to working mom. The transition has me feeling pretty nervous I know we will be okay though.
In other news and to come, are pictures of my little mans redone room which is nearly done. Some food for thought, Why can't picture books have thick enough spines in paperback version to be able to read the spine on a shelf. It is so frustrating!
Tuesday, March 25, 2014
Monday, March 17, 2014
The Only Parent Conundrum
I decided that rather than sharing adorable stories from the little one and I's week, it might be a good idea to delve into well, what my parenting situation actually is. People don't seem to actually understand, and it has lead to some awkward conversations. It is not uncommon for these conversations to occur with strangers, which honestly might make them all that much more strange (the conversations that is).
One of the best parts about meeting new people is that fantastic point in conversation when they decide its okay to get all up in my business about my kiddos dad. I will sum up this conversation for you, usually they will say something about his dad, which leads to me awkwardly shuffling my feet, and launching into a near immediate explanation. "Oh well his dad isn't involved in our lives" has become the clipped short and to the point explanation I now offer strangers who comment on how his dad must be a blonde, or make other assumptions. It happens often enough though that I get to give this explanation instead. "Well his dad isn't involved in our lives, and for all intensive purposes he doesn't actually know about him, so I am not a single parent, I actually consider myself an only parent." This is usually followed by some sort of concern on their part, or scorn as they judge whether or not I am a horrible person. I then usually get to tell them something along the lines of the abridged history of my relationship with his father and why it lead to me making the decision to not involve him for the sake of everyone (including his own).
It bothers me that I continually have to explain this. It's beginning to stop now that I have the boy friend. In fact we had the kiddo with us on a beach trip a few weekends ago and I completely allowed the lady at the ice cream counter to be mistaken about him being both my husband and the kiddos father. I know it seems like such a silly thing, but it also may have been the beginning of letting go of a small piece of what has been a core part of my identity the last 4 years. While people often seem to want me to be ashamed of the choices I made concerning my son and the fact that I haven't involved his father in our lives, I am PROUD of that choice, and I have never regretted it. I think many more young single mothers would be much better off if they had the strength to make the choice. For me the choice was pretty easy, his father and I ended up on opposite coasts before I even knew I was pregnant. There were a plethora of other factors as well, but for the intensive purposes of privacy and not completely boring you, I won't elaborate on that story any more. However if you ever want to ask me about it, I prefer to talk about it over a nice cold beer.
I started to talk about how being this only parent has become a part of my identity, I know our kids become a part of our identity no matter the situation. It's a strange sensation when that piece of your identity and how you identify your family starts to change. For a previously married couple I'd imagine that would come with a divorce. Or a single parent who like me is starting a journey with someone and welcoming them into life bit by bit. I am lucky in that this progression has been so natural. My son has never not adored my boyfriend (Okay in all fairness he knew from the get go that he worked at the zoo, so that gave him major points even before he was the guy hanging around with mom a lot.) the natural way he has always liked my boyfriend helped me to make sure I knew this guy I've been seeing for over half a year now was really worth it. This half a year and growing into our roles and a different sort of family identity have been amazing, but I do find I spend time mourning things I never really noticed, or before were always just a silly preference that made sense. (My son completely clings to his Auntie, I am pretty sure if she could she'd give him a mountain of vanilla ice cream and a new puppy every time she saw him so I can't blame him one bit.) It's different though when it is someone I am essentially saying here, this has been a part of my identity since I brought this child into the world and I'm giving up this piece of me for the sake of growing our family. My heart melted a bit the first time he said that he loved him to me, and even more the first time he said he was beginning to really feel like a Dad. I wasn't on that page yet (sorry honey but I wasn't but I loved it a lot) I'm catching up and its more of a tug of war than I realized it would be. I'm beginning to not feel like a single mom.
I am beginning to not feel like a single mom. I had to say it again because that's how much it freaks me out. The loss of self, and the giving up of control in an entirely different sort of way. It's entirely different to fall in love with someone when you have a child, there is so much guarding of hearts that has to happen. It actually feels pretty good to be able to relax a bit, and welcome the help, and emotional support. I know he's not there yet completely but he's getting there. The three of us are coming together and were figuring it out, and its beautiful and as I figure out my feelings its been a bit (well okay a lot) messy, but that's life and I wouldn't have it any other way.
One of the best parts about meeting new people is that fantastic point in conversation when they decide its okay to get all up in my business about my kiddos dad. I will sum up this conversation for you, usually they will say something about his dad, which leads to me awkwardly shuffling my feet, and launching into a near immediate explanation. "Oh well his dad isn't involved in our lives" has become the clipped short and to the point explanation I now offer strangers who comment on how his dad must be a blonde, or make other assumptions. It happens often enough though that I get to give this explanation instead. "Well his dad isn't involved in our lives, and for all intensive purposes he doesn't actually know about him, so I am not a single parent, I actually consider myself an only parent." This is usually followed by some sort of concern on their part, or scorn as they judge whether or not I am a horrible person. I then usually get to tell them something along the lines of the abridged history of my relationship with his father and why it lead to me making the decision to not involve him for the sake of everyone (including his own).
It bothers me that I continually have to explain this. It's beginning to stop now that I have the boy friend. In fact we had the kiddo with us on a beach trip a few weekends ago and I completely allowed the lady at the ice cream counter to be mistaken about him being both my husband and the kiddos father. I know it seems like such a silly thing, but it also may have been the beginning of letting go of a small piece of what has been a core part of my identity the last 4 years. While people often seem to want me to be ashamed of the choices I made concerning my son and the fact that I haven't involved his father in our lives, I am PROUD of that choice, and I have never regretted it. I think many more young single mothers would be much better off if they had the strength to make the choice. For me the choice was pretty easy, his father and I ended up on opposite coasts before I even knew I was pregnant. There were a plethora of other factors as well, but for the intensive purposes of privacy and not completely boring you, I won't elaborate on that story any more. However if you ever want to ask me about it, I prefer to talk about it over a nice cold beer.
I started to talk about how being this only parent has become a part of my identity, I know our kids become a part of our identity no matter the situation. It's a strange sensation when that piece of your identity and how you identify your family starts to change. For a previously married couple I'd imagine that would come with a divorce. Or a single parent who like me is starting a journey with someone and welcoming them into life bit by bit. I am lucky in that this progression has been so natural. My son has never not adored my boyfriend (Okay in all fairness he knew from the get go that he worked at the zoo, so that gave him major points even before he was the guy hanging around with mom a lot.) the natural way he has always liked my boyfriend helped me to make sure I knew this guy I've been seeing for over half a year now was really worth it. This half a year and growing into our roles and a different sort of family identity have been amazing, but I do find I spend time mourning things I never really noticed, or before were always just a silly preference that made sense. (My son completely clings to his Auntie, I am pretty sure if she could she'd give him a mountain of vanilla ice cream and a new puppy every time she saw him so I can't blame him one bit.) It's different though when it is someone I am essentially saying here, this has been a part of my identity since I brought this child into the world and I'm giving up this piece of me for the sake of growing our family. My heart melted a bit the first time he said that he loved him to me, and even more the first time he said he was beginning to really feel like a Dad. I wasn't on that page yet (sorry honey but I wasn't but I loved it a lot) I'm catching up and its more of a tug of war than I realized it would be. I'm beginning to not feel like a single mom.
I am beginning to not feel like a single mom. I had to say it again because that's how much it freaks me out. The loss of self, and the giving up of control in an entirely different sort of way. It's entirely different to fall in love with someone when you have a child, there is so much guarding of hearts that has to happen. It actually feels pretty good to be able to relax a bit, and welcome the help, and emotional support. I know he's not there yet completely but he's getting there. The three of us are coming together and were figuring it out, and its beautiful and as I figure out my feelings its been a bit (well okay a lot) messy, but that's life and I wouldn't have it any other way.
Monday, March 10, 2014
Swimming lesson and puddle jumping
Being four must be a lot of fun. Well most of the time anyways. Mind you I'm the sort of person who thinks pretty much any age before chore charts and hormones has to be pretty awesome. I envy the freedom from judgment that youth provides. I'm pretty sure most of what goes on in my little one's head is far different from what is in my own. He is becoming more aware of certain things however. Lately if were out to eat and he has to use the restroom he wants to use the "boys" room. He has the equipment for it, but not really the know how, and I'm one of those people in the not so unique situation where I can't say "Here Dad it's your turn!" Locker rooms, must be an entirely different scenario however. Or maybe its the excitement of swimming lessons that powers him through the door with a silhouette of a stick woman, or we can only assume since she clearly has on a triangle dress. I like to let him have fun on the way there. It's been pouring buckets lately, normal march in the Pacific Northwest. So he had on his swim trunks, swim shirt, rain boots and a hoodie. It was pretty much the cutest thing ever, but really it was for the sake of a short encounter the first time through the locker room, which I knew would be empty this time, but still the less time the better.
He stood in the shower, spray him off, go out find the group, try not to get to jostled by the crowd of wet children and their dry hurried parents who just finished lessons before us. Now today I had a plan. You see I respect that there are families with multiple children and or both parents who can help after, so I respect them and I stay away from the family locker rooms, at least for now. I don't really have an issue taking him into the girls side, he is only four after all I am a single mom, these things are to be expected, but Sunday night swimming lessons, does not so much coincide with the whole bath time at home later, so I had a plan. I was going to make sure we were the first ones back to shower and we were going to get the handicapped shower because it has a hose. I could shower him after swim, no bath needed. It was going to be great. I sat and watched him as he jumped in and out of the pool, eavesdropping on the family behind me (4 adults to watch one little girl who happened to be in the same group as my son, mind you I appreciated having the boyfriend by my side last week but am use to doing things on my own so a group of 4 to 1 seems a bit like over kill) and kept track of the time, I was going to be the first one out there and the first into the locker room so we could get in, get showered and get out as fast as possible. Now I am sure there are families that were faster, but we did pretty good for us and got the hose shower. (Just for the record if there was a handicapped person who needed it I would have given it up in heart beat and forgone my dry jeans and had him shower in the regular ones.)
Its after the shower where things get interesting. He's curious and 4, his eyes wander. Its become almost a game. Its like how can I teach him locker room manners without making him aware of what's actually going on, especially when it comes to the opposite sex. Guys joke about crude locker room stuff all the time. Girls are catty and mean when it comes to locker room business and if you aren't the alpha female you keep your head down and pretend you don't exist, you don't look you don't talk and hope that no one notices your tiny white training bra with a pink bow. Mind you I've gotten over most of my locker room fear (although apparently not the middle school version of locker room). There's not a lot of room for modesty after you have shoved a child out of you. However certain locker room etiquette exists such as, keep your towel around you if your nude and get at least your undergarments on you as quickly as possible (I can manage to flash very little amounts of private skin). Okay there are plenty of women out there who literally don't seem to care one bit about... letting it all hang out, and I am somewhere between in awe of their lack of caring and embarrassed for them. However all of this leads to me as a single mom attempting to be a sort of shield, hiding the women from my son, so he's not acutely aware that he is surrounded by girls and women to avoid him feeling awkward, but also because he just doesn't need to see naked girls. Of course he's seen me naked, being a single mom means pretty much every time I'm like "Yay 5 minutes in the bath room to poop and shower in peace" means I'm going to get walked in on by him. I have this maneuver where I dry his hair and walk to where are clothes are waiting in relative dryness, this keeps his eyes pretty well covered, I then wrap him in it, strip him down and get him into his underwear as quickly as possible. Then I remove his towel, I try really hard for the sake of all the other moms and the little innocent girls to hide his penis. Not because he should be ashamed of it, but just because this is a place where they shouldn't have to worry about such things, and maybe just maybe I can teach him some modesty in the process as well.
His dry clothes were a pair of sweats in such a light blue they looked like jammies another thing that would mortify me but doesn't phase him, and he dressed and slipped into his rain boots again. Bundled back up we stopped at the front desk and talked with our favorite front desk lady, he just knows her as Grandma though. By the time we ventured back out there were more puddles than cars in the parking lot. and he jumps into the very first puddle he comes to. It was one of those moments, where I caught myself before stopping him with the usual complaints "you'll get sick" "You'll get wet" he already was wet and if he fell and got muddy we were 5 minutes from home and he would be cleaned up again easily enough so it seemed like a good time for him to get to. It was a good moment for me, I just let it go and let us both be in the moment. After all isn't that what #puddlejumping is all about. The little ones got stomped in but there were a few big ones that warranted multiple jumps and before either of us knew it, he has splashed into his boots and up his pants, I knew it was going to be an early #pajama night.
He stood in the shower, spray him off, go out find the group, try not to get to jostled by the crowd of wet children and their dry hurried parents who just finished lessons before us. Now today I had a plan. You see I respect that there are families with multiple children and or both parents who can help after, so I respect them and I stay away from the family locker rooms, at least for now. I don't really have an issue taking him into the girls side, he is only four after all I am a single mom, these things are to be expected, but Sunday night swimming lessons, does not so much coincide with the whole bath time at home later, so I had a plan. I was going to make sure we were the first ones back to shower and we were going to get the handicapped shower because it has a hose. I could shower him after swim, no bath needed. It was going to be great. I sat and watched him as he jumped in and out of the pool, eavesdropping on the family behind me (4 adults to watch one little girl who happened to be in the same group as my son, mind you I appreciated having the boyfriend by my side last week but am use to doing things on my own so a group of 4 to 1 seems a bit like over kill) and kept track of the time, I was going to be the first one out there and the first into the locker room so we could get in, get showered and get out as fast as possible. Now I am sure there are families that were faster, but we did pretty good for us and got the hose shower. (Just for the record if there was a handicapped person who needed it I would have given it up in heart beat and forgone my dry jeans and had him shower in the regular ones.)
Its after the shower where things get interesting. He's curious and 4, his eyes wander. Its become almost a game. Its like how can I teach him locker room manners without making him aware of what's actually going on, especially when it comes to the opposite sex. Guys joke about crude locker room stuff all the time. Girls are catty and mean when it comes to locker room business and if you aren't the alpha female you keep your head down and pretend you don't exist, you don't look you don't talk and hope that no one notices your tiny white training bra with a pink bow. Mind you I've gotten over most of my locker room fear (although apparently not the middle school version of locker room). There's not a lot of room for modesty after you have shoved a child out of you. However certain locker room etiquette exists such as, keep your towel around you if your nude and get at least your undergarments on you as quickly as possible (I can manage to flash very little amounts of private skin). Okay there are plenty of women out there who literally don't seem to care one bit about... letting it all hang out, and I am somewhere between in awe of their lack of caring and embarrassed for them. However all of this leads to me as a single mom attempting to be a sort of shield, hiding the women from my son, so he's not acutely aware that he is surrounded by girls and women to avoid him feeling awkward, but also because he just doesn't need to see naked girls. Of course he's seen me naked, being a single mom means pretty much every time I'm like "Yay 5 minutes in the bath room to poop and shower in peace" means I'm going to get walked in on by him. I have this maneuver where I dry his hair and walk to where are clothes are waiting in relative dryness, this keeps his eyes pretty well covered, I then wrap him in it, strip him down and get him into his underwear as quickly as possible. Then I remove his towel, I try really hard for the sake of all the other moms and the little innocent girls to hide his penis. Not because he should be ashamed of it, but just because this is a place where they shouldn't have to worry about such things, and maybe just maybe I can teach him some modesty in the process as well.
His dry clothes were a pair of sweats in such a light blue they looked like jammies another thing that would mortify me but doesn't phase him, and he dressed and slipped into his rain boots again. Bundled back up we stopped at the front desk and talked with our favorite front desk lady, he just knows her as Grandma though. By the time we ventured back out there were more puddles than cars in the parking lot. and he jumps into the very first puddle he comes to. It was one of those moments, where I caught myself before stopping him with the usual complaints "you'll get sick" "You'll get wet" he already was wet and if he fell and got muddy we were 5 minutes from home and he would be cleaned up again easily enough so it seemed like a good time for him to get to. It was a good moment for me, I just let it go and let us both be in the moment. After all isn't that what #puddlejumping is all about. The little ones got stomped in but there were a few big ones that warranted multiple jumps and before either of us knew it, he has splashed into his boots and up his pants, I knew it was going to be an early #pajama night.
We took his boots off when we got in the car. Which made for an interesting teachable moment when we got home. "Mommy my feet are cold and wet" He told me as we got the front door unlocked, him on one hip, bag with clothes and my purse hanging from the other arm "Well yea you jumped so much that water went into your boots." I told him stating the obvious "but that was fun right?" I asked hoping he would reply yes. "No, its cold" he told me, "Well what if next time we jump closer to home so its easier to get warmed up would it have been fun then." "Yea!" He cheered, as we raced up the stairs to a drawer of dry clothing. Once changed all was right in the world. I wonder what adventures swimming lessons will bring us next week.
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