growing up.

Big kid school.

I signed Carly up for "big kid school" in June. And we've been talking about it and preparing for it all summer. I told her she could go when she turned 4, and it was 3 LONG weeks after her birthday that it finally started.

Carly is going to preschool twice a week in the mornings. I think it will be just enough, without being too much, and still allowing for a lot of casual family time. It is at an elementary school, which gives it a real "big kid school" feel. We've been excited.

In the days leading up to her first day, all my motherly emotions came to the surface. Lately she has been having some behavior problems, talking rude, throwing massive tantrums, being moody. We are working through it, but I worried about her behavior at school (though she has continued to be perfect at church). I worried about her making friends. She is wonderful, but she is a type-A big sister to twins (aka: bossy), and that can turn other kids off. And she gets frustrated when people don't do what she says. She has so much light in her; I just wanted desperately for that to shine rather than some recent struggles.

The night before her first day, we had a special back-to-school family home evening. We talked about respecting her teacher, we talked about being kind to friends, we talked about making good choices, we talked about having fun. Then she received a tender priesthood blessing from her daddy, her first back-to-school blessing. She was happy, and my mom reminded me to not worry, just be excited. So I was.

The morning of the first day, she put on the outfit she picked out and we even used a curling iron on her hair. She was so excited as we headed out the door. Then we arrived at the school, and I think this is when it hit her. I think she finally understood that I was going to leave her there. I looked back at her and her eyes brimmed with tears: "But I just want to stay at home with my family." My already heavy heart spilled. I'm sure my cracking voice was a real confidence builder for her (#momwin). I told her she was going to have fun, it was going to be so great. I finally convinced her to "just try it, and if you don't like it, you don't have to stay."

[a friend from church is in her class. so fun.]

We got inside and she got her name tag and she looked completely nervous and unsure. Other parents were just headed right out, but Carly wanted me to stay. Finally it was time for them to head to the classroom. Carly waved, trying to be brave, but lost it. She cried for me to stay, to not leave her. And I lost it too. I told her she would have so much fun. I kissed her hand (dang Kissing Hand book), and I promised I would be back, I always come back. She clung to my hand. Her teacher had obviously done this before, and gently took her hand and tried to strike up a conversation. Carly cried out for me, but I rushed out the door. My heart hurt for her.

I returned home and worried incessantly about her until it was time to pick her up. When I did, she was all smiles. "You came back!" she said. I told her I always always do. Everything seemed fine and dandy.

We arrived home because I need to grab something, but I pitched the idea of a celebratory lunch at Old McDonald's. And I don't know what happened. In hindsight, I think it was the combination of so much emotional stress and excitement all in one morning. I think it was a lot for her little, high-intensity system to handle. But she completely lost it. What followed was an hour and a half long out-of-control tantrum, that started in the car, continued in her bedroom, and wrapped up in the basement because the babies had to nap. Carly has thrown some whoppers in her life, but I've never heard or seen her react this way to anything. During this hour and half, I questioned every decision I've made as a mother. I felt like I was doing nothing right. Maybe she wasn't ready for school. Maybe it is too much. Maybe it is not enough? Maybe this, maybe that. When she finally came around (trust me, I tried to stop it, but there was nothing that could be done, and when that is the case, I just let her do her thing in a room that isn't occupied), I was defeated. She cheered up, and we spent the next day very pleasantly at the park, but my anxiety spiked. I was worn.

I prayed hard for her. I prayed for her to be strong and patient and capable. She is a truly brilliant and shiny girl. I prayed for her to be that brilliant and shiny girl.

Today, we got up and ready for school. She was happy. She was excited. Chris dropped her off and reported that we was perfectly fine. After school I picked her up and we played outside for a while. I asked her questions and got very few answers about her day. But as the day wore on, she told me more and more about school. I love hearing about it from her view. I love that she is experiencing things that I don't witness, and she can tell me about it later. I could tell as she talked, that she was owning it, that it was becoming hers. That is exactly what I wanted for her. She was brave. She tackled it. And I think she is going to have a great year.

 

Tonight was another beginning.

Carly started soccer. I was so excited to sign her up. I grew up playing soccer, and just loved it. Carly was a bit washy in her excitement, and kept asking when she could do ballet. Then the mommy guilt came flowing. I put her in soccer because I wanted her to play soccer. I loved soccer and didn't love ballet. You get to run around and score goals in soccer! You get to be outside and wear cleats and be on a team. I was biased. But I felt she would love it given the chance.

We got her some cleats, and she picked out some sparkly silver shoelaces to spice them up. She also picked out the socks with hot pink stripes. Like most things in life, Carly is tackling soccer with a certain amount of flare.

Her first practice was tonight. Her coach is fun and peppy. Her team sat out in a little huddle before and after practice and I felt like it was about two weeks ago I was at my own soccer practice, standing in my own huddle. My, how time flies. She has two friends from our ward on her team, which will be so fun. It was a beautiful evening. And Carly just loved it. She had pretty good ball handling skills, but when she was supposed to be going around the cones, she just dribbled all over the field. She was intense, and adorable. After practice she didn't want to leave, and we stayed and played as a family for a while. When we got home, Carly said, "I wish I had my soccer game every night."

School is cool.

Soccer is fun.

It is going to be a fabulous fall.

Though I'm not sure when we became the parents with school and soccer practice to schedule around.

It is a bizarre feeling.

This week was a tough one. So much anxiety, so much changing, so much growing up. On Tuesday night, I went to bed feeling a bit overwhelmed and hopeless, praying everything would fall into place. Tonight I'm all smiles. I'm so proud of Carly and so excited to watch her tackle hard thing after hard thing, because she really is so strong.

But this week was another swift kick in the figurative parenthood gut. It was a reminder that parenthood never gets "easier". You tackle one phase, and then another begins. You "start over" over and over again. And for the rest of my life, there will not be a day where I'm not worried about, praying for, celebrating, or encouraging one of my kids. My poor mother gets insane stressed text messages from her daughter all the time. Kids just never leave you alone.

But then you have victories.

Today was a victory. The image of her running excitedly out of school with her backpack bouncing, and the sight of her chasing after a soccer ball in a sunshine-bathed field, those are the payments for the hard parts. And they are worth every second.