T minus two weeks

How's this for a quest? Two weeks from today our D will be halfway through his first day of kindergarten.

I think my stomach just did a half-gainer.

The hardest thing at this point, I think, is not having any idea who he'll be hanging out with, either on the kid or teacher side of things. (Our district apparently has a long history of doling out teacher assignments at the last possible second, presumably with an eye towards decreasing opportunities for parental whining and conniving.)

Last year, at our Gentle Little Quaker School, D's early reports about his classmates included a somewhat puzzled reference to "that kid who always seems mad." More curious than alarmed, I did a little digging and discovered that F, the kid in question, had just moved to our town. FROM BELGIUM.

The first week he spoke basically no English. By the second week he had learned enough to quietly say, "I want Mommy." Poor little thing! I talked with D about how hard it would be to suddenly be transported halfway around the world to a country where the people all spoke a language you didn't understand. D seemed to "get" what I was saying, and promptly tucked F under his wing. One day in November D came home almost breathless with excitement.

"Mommy, the greatest thing happened today at school. F said my name, and it was just REGULAR!" They have remained friends, and when I wondered out loud if this year's class at Down the Street Elementary might include a student who had just arrived from another country, D piped up with, "That would be nice!"

As a result of his experience last year, my kid is now prejudiced TOWARDS recently-arrived immigrants. Take some notes, grownups.

On the way into work this morning I was fantasizing about some other family in our town setting their kid up to be positively disposed towards my two-mom son. "Just think, sweetie, you might have someone in your class with TWO moms!" To which junior would of course respond, "That would be nice!"

We have been very fortunate so far. D has only gotten one overtly negative reaction (that we know of) to his two-mom status, and that was from a young friend who just got it into her head that he MUST have had a dad at one point, and since the dad was clearly nowhere around, said dad must have died. Since D and his little friend S were four years old at the time, this quickly devolved into a shouting match:

S: Your dad is DEAD!
D: He is NOT. I don't even HAVE a dad!
S: Well, you probably did, but now he's DEAD!!
D (shrieking): I DON'T HAVE ONE AND HE'S NOT DEAD!!!

Luckily it didn't come to blows, the parents were totally cool, and the kids were pretty good friends and so had some good will in the bank... it all worked out.

I talked with a friend of mine last night whose 9 yr. old has run into some "push back" from peers about his two-mom status. One time, when a schoolmate said, "Well, one of them HAS to be a step-mom," my friend's son didn't argue, but instead came home and checked in with his completely un-step moms.

At this point, our son is currently more likely to fight for his version of the truth, but who knows? If he continues to hear from people that his family "can't" be the way it actually is, he might start to question. Or at least opt to pick his battles.

When I tell friends my (by now very old) coming out story, I often explain my family's growing acceptance and support this way: "I wore them down with the persistent fact of my happiness."

If the need arises, I hope our son can wear his world down with the persistent fact of his happiness!

(Thanks to the women of Mama Says Om
for their continuing inspiration.)

Daybreak Haiku

I grasp my blanket
while the world rolls over –
daybreak already?

~ ~ ~

Tracing
the day's climb up the dunes –
birds and their songs

~ ~ ~

Cutting the deck,
sea from sky –
the sun's first light


(Thanks to the women of One Deep Breath
for their continuing inspiration.)

Dear Diary

Dear Diary,

I've got my hand on the spigot.

I am trying not to look at the calendar, but it's not helping. No matter what I do, our "baby" will be heading off to kindergarten in just a few weeks.

He'll be going to public school, in a district that is famously fabulous, and he's absolutely ready. He's been in care since he I went back to work when he was three, is social and funny, knows all his letters and the sounds they make, can do math problems in his head. And yet.

I feel like the biggest part of my job as a parent has been keeping my hand on the spigot of mainstream culture, trying to gauge how much "real world" I want in our boy's life. I find many aspects of mainstream culture problematic from a parent's standpoint, whether it's song lyrics (remind me to tell you about the fun we had explaining "suicidal" to our curious 5 year old, who overheard Sean Kingston's "Beautiful Girls" on the radio while not in our care), rampant consumerism, violence packaged as entertainment, or the idea that kids should eat "kid food" crammed with sugar. Parenting our son has been a daily exercise in vigilance.

And I know that I'm about to lose control.

Friends with older children have given us the weather report... with long days spent in school alongside children of all sorts of philosophies, D will be coming home with all kinds of new ideas and vocabulary.

I know it's inevitable, and in some ways even desirable. We don't actually want to raise our boy in a bubble.

But there's a part of me that thinks about the folks I know who are home- or un-schooling their kids, and I wonder... how do we decide the appropriate level of parental self-sacrifice? Diary, is it selfish for me to want to keep working at this cool job, which pays me to practice some things that really matter to me: listening, and writing, thinking and telling stories, matchmaking and team building? Am I doing the right thing? Is there any way to really be ready for what comes next?

(Thanks to the women of Sunday Scribblings
for their continuing inspiration.)

Peach Haiku

(Painting by Maria J. Smith)

that peach,
not ready yesterday,
was ripe today

sweet separation:
flesh from pit,
dripping juice

(Cross-posted at Summer Haiku 2007.)

(They don't call it the Garden State for nothin'!)

Taking Advantage

We had pancakes for dinner last night (I was inspired by the suddenly cooler weather and felt emboldened to fire up the stove for a change, but wasn't feeling all that creative).

I cut the first few into bite-sized pieces for D, but then, once I'd sat down to eat mine, declined his request for help cutting up his second stack.

"The cutting up help goes away once you're six, you know," I said, on the verge of pointing to the calendar to remind him just how close that fateful moment is.

He looked up with a smile, quick as a fox, and said, "I know, so don't you think I should take advantage of it? While I still can?"

So.... I cut up a few more pancakes. :-)

Wisteria Haiku

tendril by tendril,
the wisteria closes
my garden gate

(Cross-posted at Summer Haiku 2007)

Meaningful Tangles

Interesting piece in the current Wired on the mysterious Incan string bundles known as khipu. I have been fascinated by codes – broken and unbroken – for almost as long as I can remember.

Trying to figure out which movie has had the greatest impact how I see the world. (Our headmaster tossed out a little meme challenge last week.)

Saw Hairspray last night (the movie, not the play), and really enjoyed it. Worth the price of admission just to see Allison Janney's pratfall and to hear Queen Latifah say, "We get any more white people in here, it's gonna be a suburb!" Afterwards, though, I was left with the same sense of lingering unease that often accompanies my viewing of a movie that depicts our American "awakening" to racial injustice in the 1960's. I end up feeling like the subtext of the film is something like, That was then, this is now, thank goodness we've come so far. Pass the rose colored glasses; I'll have another helping of denial, please.

I am pleased that D's after-school program in this coming year will be coordinated by the YWCA; I like giving some of my money to an organization that deliberately seeks to engage issues of racial injustice on a continuing basis.

Evening Haiku

Early August –
dusk lags back
to check on bedtime

(Thanks to the women of One Deep Breath
for their continuing inspiration.)

Special Day

The first thing C said as the brightly colored plastic of Great Adventure's Hurricane Harbor came into view was, "I've really been wanting to go to a water park!" Then she said, "I don't really like slides that are TOO big, though." Uh oh, I thought. This could be a short visit. How big is too big?
By the end of our 3.5 hour visit, C had considerably expanded her definition of "small enough," and we had lots of slides to choose from, including the long ones picture above, one of which includes a section that is "pitch dark!" (C's description).

When we needed a break, we headed over to the Lazy Creek, snagged a tube, and drifted downriver. (We wanted to get a double tube, but there weren't enough to go around. We then decided we were perfectly happy to share one big single tube.) (Please be very impressed by my ability to take a picture with a non-waterproof camera while floating on a tube with a seven year old. I know I am.)

Then it was sliding and more sliding...

With the occasional bungee jump tossed in there.

C and I truly enjoyed each other's company,
which is what Special Days are all about.