First Day Of Preschool (again)

This week was Dylan's LAST first day of preschool (get that?).  Since he misses the cutoff for kindergarten, he's in the preschool enrichment class Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.

Since we were on vacation, we missed the "orientation meeting".  So, basically we had no clue what was going on the first day.  Also, I wasn't even sure what to call "the first day".  He had class on Wednesday, but only for 1 hour, and with only half of the class (the other half came for one hour earlier).  Plus, the parents stayed, so I'm not sure that really counts?  But, I decided it was the first day, and took the first day pictures that day, even though it was ridiculously cloudy and raining.  (Didn't matter - it looks the same today).

We went in the building, and went to what I THOUGHT was his classroom.  Ummm.... there were already a ton of kids in that room, seeming to be in the middle of class?!  The two teachers that I remembered meeting last year were in there?  According to the paper I received, we were 10 minutes early for class.  Huh?  We started walking around aimlessly, until we saw a group of parents and kids.  "Maybe these are his classmates?", I thought.  "No, this can't be right.  Look at how small they are".  We wandered around aimlessly some more.  I finally admitted stupidity/unpreparedness and asked someone.

Yep, it WAS the group of kids who were so small compared to Dylan.  The two teachers I had never seen before, so I'm not sure what happened there?  It was all a bit like those reoccurring dreams you have where you forget your locker combination and you're late to class.  You have those too, right?!

I succeeded in not laughing out loud when the first activity was for the kids to match the number on the bear they were given to the matching number on a coat.  Dylan got the number 3.  He's been counting, umm..., a bit higher than that for years.  But, then later, when he was doing a puzzle and another boy came over to help, and Dylan said, "I can do it myself!", I reminded myself that another year in preschool might not be such a bad thing.  Maybe he needs that year to work on his social skills.

Today was his first "real" day of class.  Other than the fact that we are still on vacation time and can't fathom the idea of getting up at 6:30 or 7:00, things went smoothly.  I stumbled groggily out of bed at 7:15 and realized with a shock that I would not have time to shower. ( I rock. Seriously).  Then I got a very sleepy boy out of bed, and started breakfast.  When he came down wearing a yellow/brown/white striped shirt, and tropical plaid patterned shorts, I had to intervene.  After fixing that, and eating breakfast, while writing out checks for tuition and a field trip, I realized he had show and tell today!

"Dylan!  You have show and tell today!  What's your favorite animal?!", I asked in a panic.
"A hippopotamus!", he answered with a smile.
"Of course it is".
Would you believe we found 3 Hippopotamus themed things in our house?  We made it there on time, too!  I rock... smelly, wild hair and all.

Jim's 45th Birthday

Friday was Jim's 45th birthday.  This guy sure doesn't look 45, does he?  I always did like the older and more mature guys.

He took the day off, but didn't actually TELL me that until the day before his birthday, so I had no time to make any plans.  (I should have given him memory pills for his birthday).

Dylan had preschool until 12:00, so Jim slept in while I took him and ran errands.  Then, he came with me to pick him up, which thrilled Dylan.  A few days before, he informed Jim and I that his favorite kid wasn't there.  When I asked who that was, he answered, "I don't know her name".  Jim told him, "Well, just go up to her and ask what her name is and tell her your name!"

So, Jim and I walked into school, and Dylan ran over to the girl, shouting, "HERE SHE IS!  THIS IS MY FAVORITE KID!!... What's your name?".  His favorite kid just stood there looking a bit alarmed.  I couldn't believe THAT was the girl he liked.  A few days before, when I dropped him off, she was walking around looking rather depressed and gloomy.  When I picked him up that day, she was having a cow because she didn't get a turn to do something.  Why do guys always like the high maintenance ones?

We went to Panera Bread for lunch, and then went to Seven Springs.  I mean, Mi-Mi and Bubba got to ride the Alpine Slide with him.   We wanted our turn.  When we got there, we found out it was closed.  Dylan handled that little fact better than the 45 year old.

We played games in the arcade, and played at the playground (in the 87 degree heat!), then had a snack, before heading home.  Bubba came to babysit Dylan, so Jim and I could go out for dinner.  So, we had a nice meal at Outback Steakhouse, then rented a movie.   It was a great day.

(I appreciated the kid-free meal even more yesterday, when we had to leave the restaurant after I consumed only 2 bites of my meal.  Dylan had been constipated all day, and had gone to the bathroom (at the zoo) several times to sit and sit and sit, and touch every disgusting surface, and then touch his face, and produce nothing.  So, when he said he had to go, five minutes after returning from another potty trip with Jim, I wasn't going to take him.  I wanted to eat my meal while it was hot.  But, he was insistent, and it was my turn.  So, I took him in the ridiculously tiny stall, and cringed with each germy thing he touched.  Then, he started rubbing his nose, so I squatted to wipe his nose.  At that exact moment, the dam finally broke, and not only did he poop, but he peed right.between.my.legs.)  

Outside The Lines

When I said that I have major issues with the art projects at Dylan's preschool, I wasn't kidding. Yes, they did dress the boys up like girls, but that's not even my biggest complaint. At least they only did that once.

I told you before that they only focus on one color a month. What I didn't tell you is that every morning they put a coloring book sheet on the easel, and let them paint it with that ONE COLOR.

Do you see how he is trying to paint inside the lines? Do you understand how CRAZY that makes me? Now, I am probably going to make myself very unpopular with my next statement. I HATE coloring books. HATE THEM.

Children are born creative little beings. Give them some sticks or a big cardboard box (or both), and you can witness their creativity. Telling them to "color inside the lines"? Praising them for being "a good colorer"? Telling them to color a picture that someone else drew? All that does is stifle their creativity in my opinion.

Coloring books impose an adult standard of draftmanship, setting kids up for frustration. It feeds the myth that you have to be a "good drawer" to be "artistic". You don't! There are many forms of art that aren't dependent upon realistic rendering.

If kids are born creative, how do they lose that? The answer, I feel, is that the adults in their life squash it. It doesn't have to be "adults", either. Just one can damage it. Those of you who say, "I'm not an artist", or "I can't even draw a stick figure"? I'm willing to bet there is a moment/a person that stands out in your mind that gave you that feeling about your creative self.

I will never forget being given an assignment in art school, to illustrate the cover of our hypothetical autobiography. I drew a self portrait that was made of of many different pieces. The pieces symbolized the way people seem to want to put you in a certain box, or role - mother, artist, teacher, etc - and look no further than that. I was saying that to truly understand me, you need to look at ALL the pieces and how they fit together to make me the person I am.

We were to each meet with the professor with a rough idea, before finishing the project. I explained the above to her, and also told her that the title was going to be "Outside The Lines". I told her I planned to splatter paint in random areas of the drawing to symbolize "outside the lines". She told me that would look "sloppy". She basically told me to "color inside the lines". I lost all desire to try in her class after that. She just didn't get it. She just didn't get me.

Do you understand how it must make our children feel when we tell them to color inside the lines? When they show us their art and we ask "What is that?" (Why does it have to be anything?) When we grab their picture to "help them" draw something, when they didn't ask for our help? When we show them a craft that an adult made, and ask them to recreate it?

Someone said to me, in rebuttal to my argument, "Well, don't they need to learn to follow the rules?" That's just it. In art, there are no rules. Art is subjective. It is open and free, and the process is more important than the end product.

Giving a three year old a small paper with a picture someone else drew, ONE color of paint, and a giant paintbrush, and telling them to paint inside the lines is absurd.

Every child is an artist.
The problem is how to remain
an artist once he grows up.
-Pablo Picasso

I Vacuum

Quite some time ago, I invited another mother, that I didn't know very well, over to my house. Her kids and Dylan enjoyed the playdate, and we had a nice conversation, but I was pretty sure her and I weren't destined to be friends. Why? Because she wouldn't sit on the floor. Does that sound ridiculous to you?

When she showed up, I noticed that her kids were pretty dressed up. I mean, it was a playdate. Kids usually get dirty when they are playing, especially outside, as we had planned. I also noticed that she was pretty dressed up - a fancy blouse, dress pants, and fancy shoes. My usual attire for a playdate is jeans, a t-shirt, and comfortable shoes. Heck, that is my usual attire period. I don't like to wear dresses, and I think pantyhose are probably the most annoying invention of all times. Oh, and also, I'm a nanny. Dressing up for work is like saying "Hey, would you mind throwing mud on my shirt, and splashing red paint on my pants, so I can never wear these clothes again? Thanks!"

At the time of the playdate, we hadn't lived in our new house very long. We had more rooms than furniture at that point, so the family room, which is basically a playroom, didn't have a couch or chairs yet. Didn't bother me. I always sat on the floor, playing with Dylan, anyway. As the kids played, I sat on the floor, talking to her, while she stood awkwardly, looking down at me. Strangely enough, I didn't hear from her after that.

Dylan's preschool is in an area with a mix of income levels. There are some middle income families, but there are also some very wealthy families. At Open House, sitting with this group of women, I felt extremely underdressed. I started a dialogue in my head, "Why are these women so dressed up to bring their kid to preschool? Look at their perfect hair! Their manicured nails! Their perfectly coordinated outfits, and their matching accessories! Look at their purses! What are they trying to prove? Who are they trying to impress? They are housewives! They are just going home after this".

Why do we do this? Why do women judge each other? We do it about everything - clothes, hair, parenting style, what have you. It has always bothered me, and yet, there I was doing it. This week I realized something. Maybe, just maybe they LIKE dressing up. Maybe they just enjoy looking pretty. Maybe having perfect nails and hair makes them feel really good about themselves. Maybe they used to have jobs that required them to dress up, and they came to like dressing like that. Maybe it is just a personal preference, and I'm just being a big, dumb, jerk. Maybe they are judging me, wondering "Why is that woman dressed like a slob? Does she have no pride?"

Oh, and one more thing. Maybe, just maybe, I'm a little jealous because they look better than I do.

So, I've decided to try to be less judgmental. But still, if you come to my house, I'd really appreciate it if you just tried sitting on my floor. I vacuum! (Sometimes)

Why Do I Do This To Myself?

I don't do Wordless Wednesdays, but if I did, it would go like this...

Last year...


This year...


GAH!! (Sob)

I Can't See Through These Bushes

Dylan started preschool today. Well, technically he went last year, but it wasn't the same. It was a "Mommy and Me" class, so I went with him, and the program fell apart, (due to lack of involvement), by November.

This year he is in the Two's class again, since he won't turn three until November. (Why are they so strict with the birthdays?!) This year, however, he goes without me. GASP! I need to get a grip.

Now for two mornings of each week, I won't know...
1. What he is doing.
2. Who he is playing with.
3. How he is feeling.
4. How other people are treating him.

For someone who might have control issues, this is difficult. The first three really aren't so bad.
1. He will be playing, doing art projects(bringing home paint splattered clothes with a layer of glue/glitter/or play-doh on them), eating a snack ( I hope he saves some for the other kids!), participating in music time (I hope I know some of the songs he comes home singing, or can at least understand the words!), sitting for circle time (Gosh, I hope he sits!), and going to the bike room, (I hope he doesn't run over anyone!).
2. He will probably play with anyone who wants to play with him. I have a list of the kids names, so that will help decipher the stories I might hear at home.
3. He will most likely be feeling happy, happy, happy! Today, for the first day, I got to stay in the room for a while. There was screaming and wailing by several of the kids. Dylan, on the other hand, walked in and before I could even say "Bye", was off playing.

I think number four is often the hardest for parents. It certainly is for me. For 2 1/2 years now, he has only been treated kindly by the people around him. For the most part, he doesn't know what disappointment, rejection, and cruelty feels like, and I would like to keep it that way. What will he do if someone treats him badly?

Life, out there in the big, scary world, without mommy, is only going to get harder. I guess all I can do is trust that I have helped him develop the self esteem that he needs.

Or, like I told a friend of mine, I could buy a set of binoculars and hide in the bushes.