And On To Another School Year...

I'm ambivalent about the end of summer and the start of the school year. If all of my kids were in school, I would probably look forward to the start of school more, as a chance to have some quiet in the house. But since I will now have two at home and two at school, it's kind of a toss-up whether I prefer school vacations or regular school days.

The advantage, for me, of non-school days is not having to deal with drop-off and pick-up. If I don't have to worry about being back in time to pick up one or another of my kids from school, then we can take longer afternoon outings, plan errands, pop out for lunch or dinner, or just hang around the house all day, and no one has to be tossed into his car seat in the middle of a nap or playtime.

On the other hand, when my kids are in school, the house is quieter. There are fewer personalities to deal with, less arguing. It's generally more peaceful. (Although, I expect this to change as the baby moves into toddlerhood and buts heads more often with his brother.) Plus, when the kids are in school, I feel like at least for some hours of the day they're not simply staring at a screen all day, they're not sitting like lumps on the couch, and their brains are engaged. They're socializing and playing and learning. So when they come home and want to veg out, I don't feel as bad about it.

I generally despise "schlepping." Going from one place to another, strapping all four kids into the car, getting all four out of the car, into the car, out of the car, entertaining three while the other is at an activity, going to pick up one or two while the others are just along for the ride. I don't like being bound to strict schedules and having to disrupt everyone else's routines for the sake of one. This is family life, and no one is more important than anyone else, but I feel bad that the babies tend to get slighted and spend so much time in the car. I also dislike feeling torn between supervising homework and supervising toddlers, neglecting one child because the other needs more support, and leaving the older ones mostly to their own devices because the younger ones still need me so much. I think it all balances out in the end, but in the moment it is hard for everyone.

I am excited for my 5-year-old to finally start kindergarten, though! For the first time, two of my kids will be at the same school, together, every day. I won't get into the insane kindergarten schedule this school has that I am not as excited about. He's counting down the days until he starts. He's so excited. He really craves friends and learning and I'm sure this will be a great year for him.

My biggest is starting third grade, which blows my mind. I know kids get bigger and older and move forward through life at what is apparently a staggering rate, but third grade feels so big. I'm mostly excited for him. I hope he'll be challenged and rewarded for rising to that challenge. I hope he'll solidify friendships, learn all sorts of new information he can pepper his conversation with, and start really diving into what school is all about.

We'll settle into a routine and work out the kinks as the year goes on, and before I know it, it'll be summer again, with it's relaxation and stir-craziness. I have the feeling I'll really appreciate summer break by the time it rolls around next June!

This, Too, Shall Pass, and Other Wisdom

I find myself, with about eight weeks left of this pregnancy, suddenly terrified of having a newborn again. This happens with each consecutive child. I cycle from excited, to thinking we must be crazy, to content, to excited, to terrified, to content, to excited, to OMG WHAT WERE WE THINKING?, then back to excited, then content, then terrified.

Part of it is our kids are spaced just-so, that we finally are at a point where sleep is basically working, routines are basically established, everybody's got some level of independence, and I feel like I'm in the groove, and then we throw another newborn into the mix and everything gets thrown out of whack again. And this being my fourth time through the ringer, well, I kind of do know what to expect.

In some ways, knowing what to expect is comforting. I know what to do with a newborn. I know phases start and phases end. I have almost seven years of watching kids grow up under my belt and have been through sleeplessness and teething and illness and firsts and potty training and nightmares and picky eating and tantrums and I know that "this, too, shall pass" is an absolute mantra of parenting. I know I can stick it out for a little longer until one problem ends as suddenly as another begins. I can pass along the sage wisdom of, "Just when you think you have it all figured out, they change it up on you again," and I can remember it for myself. I know that "do what works," "wait it out," and "give it another couple weeks" are absolute truths. I know that every kid is different, that every baby needs love, and that I have the strength and capacity to make it through this hour, this day, this week.

But in other ways, knowing what to expect is terrifying! I know about the sleepless nights, the crying for no reason (both me and the baby!), the stress of feeding issues and poo-splosions. I know about the pain of recovering from childbirth. I've experienced the complexities of balancing the needs of the older kids and the baby, and the sheer exhaustion of new parenthood. (And it's still new, even when it's for the fourth time.) I know about the disruption of routine, the randomness of life with a newborn, and the stress of evening fussiness. I know that sleepless nights and teething woes are once again on the horizon.

I find I do have a longer view than I used to. I'm already thinking about next fall, when my second will start kindergarten, my third will be three, and the new one, who is right know kicking and dancing within me, will be almost one. Because I can envision that, when it used to seem impossible that my kids would ever grow up, grow bigger, start school. It used to feel like toddlerhood was forever, that I'd be always wiping butts and noses (not simultaneously), cutting up food into tiny pieces, and washing sippy cups. Now I see that it is not. That life will change. That one day my days will be my own (except for school breaks and sickness), that my kids will be helpful in stores, that I won't have car seats to buckle or diapers to change, that I won't have to supervise trips to the bathroom, that as suddenly as life changes when you give birth, life gradually evolves again as that baby becomes a little person who walks and talks and has opinions all his own.

So, I'm terrified of the short term, of what I know is coming in the next few months and years. But I'm excited, too, about the long term, of watching another bright soul come into his own, of seeing our once-little family become huge and full of life and noise and warmth and love.

To those of you out there with one little one, or two little ones, who see life at knee-height, whose days are full of poop and whose nights are empty of sleep: give it a few weeks, months, a year. Life will expand. Your kids will grow. You will grow. You have the strength to make it through this hour, this day, this month. And while you may not look back fondly on every tantrum (yours or theirs), you'll look back and know that the weeks are shorter than they seem and that the months go by faster than you could ever have imagined.

Watching What We Say To Our Kids

When my oldest, N, was young, probably toddler-aged, I read in a book or on a blog or in some article a very, very important bit of parenting advice that has stuck with me more than anything else I've read or tried, and applies regardless of what other parenting or discipline methods you subscribe to. It has to do with how we talk to our kids, both in praise and in displeasure.

It's a simple concept, really, but in practice it takes concentration and self-control. What it boils down to is, when we talk to our children about their behavior, positive or negative, good or bad, it's vital to talk about the action, not the character of the child. We need to reinforce actions we want them to take again, and we want to point out and correct actions we want them to change. What we don't want to do is praise or criticize things they can't change or traits they can't "do."

Let's look at a positive example first.

Let's say your kid is very smart (of course!), and they bring home their first report card, and it's straight A's (of course), and the teacher's comment is that your child is a pleasure to have in class and is above grade level in every subject. That's fantastic. You're ecstatic! You've always demanded academic excellence of your children, and you knew he had it in him, and you're thrilled that he's living up to all your expectations for him. You want to convey to your child that you are very happy with his performance in school and want him to continue to excel, put out effort, work hard, and enjoy learning.

What not to say: "You're so smart!"

Why not? He is smart! He should be proud of himself!

Yes, but "smart" isn't something he does or doesn't do. "Smart" isn't something he can change about himself. "Smart" isn't a lesson he can learn or an action he can repeat. And what happens when he fails his first test or forgets to do his homework or gets yelled at by a teacher? Is he suddenly not "smart"? How is he supposed to remedy any setbacks with "smart"?

What to say instead: "You worked hard and it shows! I'm so proud of the effort you made!"

Here, you're praising what he did, not the trait of "smartness." This way he knows that hard work and persistence is what's going to get him ahead in life and in school. "Smart" is all well and good, but it's what you do with "smart" that will make the difference. Plenty of smart people do poorly in school, fail out, or give up, either because they're bored or because they don't know how to deal with not understanding something or failing once. With praising the effort rather than the trait, he now knows that it's up to him to continue to put out that effort to do well, and that if there is a setback or failure, he can step it up and keep trying in order to succeed.

Now, let's look at the flip side - a negative example.

By negative, I mean a behavior you want to correct.

Let's say your kid has trouble getting ready for school on time. She dawdles when she's getting dressed, wastes time while eating breakfast, and takes twice as long as she should to pack up her backpack, and even then manages to forget stuff, and you find yourself constantly having to bring her lunch or homework to school for her later. This, understandably, causes frustration every morning, and in a moment of pique, you yell at her.

What not to say: "You're so lazy! What's wrong with you? It's the same every morning! Why are you so slow?!"

Why not? She is being lazy and slow! And it's annoying! And you're sick of it!

Yes, of course you're sick of it, and frustrated, and you can't understand why she hasn't learned yet. But telling her she's lazy and slow is reinforcing an image she's already created of herself. And if she's a lazy, slow kid, then that's just who she is - see, even Mom thinks so - and it's not going to change now. You even said so: it's the same every morning.

What to say instead: (And, yes, you can yell this if you need to!) "It takes so long for you to get ready in the morning! Why don't you get your stuff together the night before! That would save so much time, and I wouldn't have to constantly be bringing your things to you at school! You need to get dressed before you eat breakfast, and you need to eat more quickly."

Here, we're talking about specific actions she can take to improve the mornings. Suggesting, even yelling, that she get her backpack together in the evening gives her a goal, something clear she can do to help her along and save her time. Maybe she honestly hasn't thought of doing that, and having you plant the idea is all she needed. Knowing that she doesn't get breakfast until she's dressed might mean she'll get dressed more quickly, because she has a goal. And, if you're willing to go that far, you can even add in that if she doesn't get dressed fast enough, she won't have time for breakfast and will either have to skip it (not recommended) or take a banana or something along in the car or on the walk to school so she isn't starving.

It's very important in a scenario like this that when she does make a positive change, such as getting her backpack ready the night before, that you acknowledge it. And, referring to above, don't say, "Good job!" Say, "Wow, getting your things ready last night made it so much easier this morning. Look at that, you're ready to go 10 minutes early!" You don't actually have to praise her, but you definitely need to show that you noticed and point out what a difference it made. If she's anything like my kid, you'll see her swell with pride at having done something "right," and hopefully that's a feeling she'll want to recapture and will continue to improve.

Let's look at one more example of each.

First, the positive.

Let's say your teenage daughter is very pretty (of course!). People are always telling her, "You're so pretty!" Even you take pride in the fact that she's so beautiful and perfect. One day, she wears an outfit that suits her especially well. Her makeup is done just-so, her hair is shiny and perfect. You're so lucky to have such a pretty daughter.

What not to say: "You're so pretty!"

Why not? She is pretty!

Well, we all know that beauty can fade, and while girls can get by on their looks for a while, eventually they also need some substance to their character to be anything in life. I hope that beyond beauty, you have dreams for your daughter to succeed in areas that require persistence, intelligence, or kindness as well.

What to say instead: I think there's a twofold reaction needed here. First, if you want to express that she's looking especially good that day, start with, "Wow, I love that outfit on you. You pick out such nice clothing." This is praising the act of choosing an attractive outfit, rather than the trait of "being pretty." She can continue to choose flattering, appropriate clothing for herself even if something happens to alter her current looks. But it's also important that you don't emphasize beauty over everything else. Be sure you're praising her for other achievements or activities, such as acts of kindness, persistence, or academic excellence. She needs to know there's more to life than looks, and she also needs to know that you value her for more than her appearance.

And now something you want to change.

Your four-year-old son is having trouble with his behavior at preschool. He's been biting and pinching other kids, and finally the director calls you in and says that if there's one more incident, he'll be asked to leave. The violence, defiance, and other difficult behaviors have to stop, because it's causing too much of a disruption and other parents are angry that their children are being hurt. You know it's time for some serious action on your part.

What not to say: "You're such a bad kid! Look at you, four years old and getting kicked out of school! Why can't you behave?!"

Why not?

I hope this time it's obvious. At four years old, you've already told him he's "bad" and that he can't behave. He's going to internalize statements like these and just assume that it's true: He's a bad kid who can't behave. And guess what bad kids who can't behave do? They misbehave!

Calling names or assigning negative traits to your child will only make things worse. Instead, they need to know both the "don't"s and "do"s of what happened so that they can hopefully make corrections in the future.

What to say instead: "Biting and pinching hurts other kids and makes them sad. If you hurt other kids, you won't be allowed to go to school anymore, and I think that will make you sad. You always tell me how much you like going to school." That's the "don't" part. But he may need more help. Continue with, "If you don't like something another child does, you need to use your words to tell them. Say, 'Don't do that!' instead of pinching, or go tell the teacher if you're upset about something." Now he has an action he can take. You've given him an alternative to violence. You're telling him to use words, and not just a vague, "use words," but exactly what words to use.

It's important to model that behavior for him, too. If he tries to bite or pinch a sibling when he's angry, or he takes a swipe at you when you do something he doesn't like, that's your opportunity to show him, in the heat of the moment, how he should act. Stop the negative behavior first, physically if you have to (grab his wrist to stop a pinch, or pull him away from the sibling - not something violent, just stop it before he gets there, if possible), and then supply the words instead. "We don't pinch, remember?! Say, 'David, I was playing with that toy and you took it. Please give it back!'" Or, "We don't hit Mommy! If you're angry with me, you can say, 'Mommy, I'm mad that you won't let me watch TV!'" Then encourage him to try it. That doesn't mean you have to let him do whatever it was he wanted to do, but you're giving him words for his feelings and a healthy way to express those feelings, instead of hitting you.

I'm not saying you're going to see a change overnight in any of these scenarios. Indeed, if there are deeper issues affecting your child's behavior, it may take far more than simple words to make that change. But words are a great place to start, because kids take far more meaning from what we say than we think they will. They also imitate what they hear and internalize values based on what you say to them. If we show them the proper behavior, demonstrate it in context, and live according to the values we want them to absorb, most kids will live up to, or even exceed, the goals we have for them.

Lockdown Follow-Up

After my experience with arriving at my son's school to find police cars with lights flashing and the school under lockdown, blogging about it, reading and hearing responses to the story, and thinking about it on and off for a couple of days, I decided to write a letter to the school outlining my concerns and making a few suggestions. It is unusual for me to actually take the step of writing a letter, though I often threaten to, and I was pleased with what I came up with and sent.

Here's what I wrote (redacted for specific references to my son or his school):

Dear [Principal]:

My son [name] is in the first grade at [your school]. I have been very happy with the positive attention and academic support and challenge, as well as the quality of teachers, he has so far encountered. It is clear that you care deeply about the students and staff at [the school] and strive to create a nurturing environment and encourage excellence in every classroom. I am also pleased at the effort you and my son’s teachers make to stay in contact with parents and keep us informed. The automatic phone calls I receive in the evenings once or twice a week are helpful to remind me of what’s coming up and what’s going on.

I was surprised, then, to show up at school to pick up [my son] on Wednesday afternoon and find police cars surrounding the school. I had no idea what was going on. I had not received any kind of communication about a lockdown or emergency situation, and I did not know if I needed to follow any special instructions or procedures or if I needed to be worried about my son. It was clear that some of the parents knew what was going on and others did not. I appreciated that you personally came out to explain the dismissal procedure, but I did not like being in the dark as to the reason behind the precautions.

I picked up [my son] at the back gate as instructed and was entertained by his account of the “practice” lockdown. I was pleased that he obviously knew what to do when a lockdown was called, that he and his classmates had followed directions, and that he was not traumatized or frightened. But I was not pleased that I still didn’t know what had triggered the lockdown and if I needed to be concerned.

Another parent informed me as we walked home about the potentially threatening phone call the school had received. I wondered how she knew about it and I didn’t. It was also a vague sort of report, the kind that can spawn rumors that blow the actual event way out of proportion.

When I got home, I had a message on my voicemail from the automated calling system with your explanation of the lockdown. The message was time-stamped 1:15pm, when I was already on my way home from picking up my son. I was relieved that no emergency situation had occurred and to finally hear more of the story.

I am writing, therefore, to comment that taking over an hour to get the message out to all families is too long. I realize there are limits to how quickly the robo-caller can get to all the numbers on the list. Normally, this isn’t a problem, but in an emergency situation like a lockdown, I think it’s important to get the message out as quickly as possible, especially since it had the potential to impact pickup procedures.

I’m sure the staff at [your school] have already considered the most efficient and comprehensive way to contact parents when news such as this needs to be disseminated. However, there must be a faster way to inform all parents when information is time-sensitive or emergent. Perhaps adding an email, classroom-based phone tree, or automated text messaging system would help to speed up the process, as well as having a better chance at reaching all parents. I would simply like to suggest that having multiple avenues of communication, rather than just a phone call to the home phone, would be prudent in the event of an emergency.

Thank you for your time, and for your dedication to making [your school] the best school it can be. I look forward to enrolling my other sons as they reach kindergarten age.

Sincerely yours,

[Me]

This past Wednesday, I received a phone call from the principal in response to this letter. He apologized for how long it took to get back to me, explaining that they don't get much actual mail and that it took a while to find its way to his desk. He thanked me for my concerns and suggestions and said I was not the only parent to complain about how long it had taken to get the information that day. He also acknowledged the potential for rumors to start and that it was important that everyone get the same message at the same time to prevent this. He told me that the school district was already in talks with a company that can do mass text messaging and that this incident definitely made them aware that they need a quicker way to inform parents, especially when after-school activities and pick-up procedures may be affected. He did stress that their number one priority is to ensure the safety of the kids, with which I readily agreed.

All-in-all, I really appreciated his response. I was surprised and pleased to receive a personal phone call, that he had read my letter, that he understood and shared my concerns, and that he was already working to improve the system.

When we think about school emergencies, lately, our minds immediately go to incidents such as Columbine and Sandy Hook, but it's reasonable to think of more "mundane" emergencies, as well. What if there were a fire at the school? A water main break, a blackout, a failure of the heating or air conditioning system? There are many reasons the school may need to quickly get in touch with parents, and I'm glad that a non-emergency provided the impetus to make the change, rather than a system failing to perform when lives were at stake.

Lockdown at the Elementary School

On Wednesdays, my first-grader gets out of school at 1:05. Yesterday, I showed up at the school around 1:00 and was puzzled to see several police cars, lights flashing, parked around school grounds. I was just in time to overhear an announcement on the loudspeaker, "Students who usually walk home will be permitted to walk home as usual," or something to that effect. "Why wouldn't they be?" I said to myself. Obviously, something was Not Right at the school, but I had no idea what was going on.

I loitered by the front gate for a few minutes with my younger sons in the double stroller, trying to eavesdrop on what other parents were saying while we waited for them to open the gates and let us in. Normally, they open the gates a minute or two before the bell rings, and we can scatter off in all directions to go to our kids' classrooms and meet them there. A picture began to form, that there was a lockdown going on that was just being lifted as school was ending. A lockdown? Why?

I was more confused than upset, trying to piece together information from whatever I could overhear. Why hadn't anyone told me what was going on? If there was some danger at the school, shouldn't they have called the parents to let us know what was happening, sent an email, something? Did I need to do anything different or special in light of this development? Why was there a lockdown to begin with? How nervous did I need to be?

Finally, the principal came out through the front gate and told us that they were not going to be opening the gates. Instead, the children who usually came to the front gate on their own would be released one-by-one to their parents. If our child did not normally meet us at the front gate, we were to go to the back gate to pick them up. The back gate is the typical pick-up site where students are escorted to meet their parents if the parent doesn't come to their classroom.

Armed with these instructions, I plodded with my double stroller to the back gate, where my son was already waiting for me. It wasn't unusual, in and of itself, for him to meet me at the back gate - I have to catch him there if I don't make it to the school in time to meet him at his classroom - and he didn't seem agitated or frightened.

"Did you have a lockdown today?" I asked, hoping someone, even if it was my six-year-old, could finally tell me what was going on.

"Yeah. It was the longest lockdown ever!" he said. I would have laughed at the tone if I hadn't been so bewildered and on the verge of worry. "It was like two hours!"

"Two hours?" I said. "Wow."

"Yeah. Well, we were under our desks for like 20 minutes, and then they said we could move around the classroom, but we couldn't go between the buildings," he said.

I wondered if he was exaggerating the time. To him, the lockdown was little more than a boring inconvenience, a disruption to the usual school day, and not something to be worried about.

"And then," he continued, "they made an announcement that you could go back to your classroom if you weren't with your class."

"So some kids got caught in different rooms?" I asked.

"Yeah. You're supposed to go to the nearest classroom if you're outside. But everyone was in our class. It must have been a practice lockdown, not a real one, because they wouldn't have let us move around the classrooms if it was a real one!"

Ah. He didn't know it was a real one. The presence of police, the nervousness of staff and other parents, the change in pick-up rules all spoke to the reality of the situation, but my innocent son was able to retain his innocence still. He thought it was practice.

While waiting for the walk signal on the corner, another mother asked my son if he was scared. "He says it was just practice," I said, making eye contact and emphasizing that so she wouldn't say otherwise. There was no reason to scare him, since everything had apparently worked out fine.

"Oh, just practice. That's good that you're not scared," she said, understanding.

"I don't even know what happened," I said over my kids' heads.

"Oh, you don't know? They got a phone threat!" she said quietly.

Yikes.

"Oh!"

When we got home, I had a recorded message from the school, time-stamped 1:15 p.m., on my home phone, explaining that the school had received a phone call around noon from an unidentified caller saying that something spectacular was going to happen in the next five or 10 minutes near the school. No one knew what it meant, so to be safe they went on lockdown and called the police. Nothing happened, apparently, and they didn't have further information, so they lifted the lockdown and sent the kids home at the usual time.

I was bothered by not having any idea what had happened until it was over. Now I'm worried that being so out of the loop means that if something did happen, I wouldn't have a clue! I think I was just unlucky to be near the end of the automated phone call list, so I didn't get the call until after school let out, but this suggests to me that we need a faster way to get the message out. Perhaps classroom phone trees?

When I picked up my son today from school, another parent told me that they finally had the full story. It seems it was a parent who had called to tell the school that a blimp was going to fly overhead, and he thought the kids might like to see it. Unfortunately, he got cut off before he could finish, and his wording caused school officials to think it was a threat.

The mother who told me this gave me her phone number and said that if she ever hears anything, she'll be sure to call me. I thanked her. It's scary to be out of the loop like that. I often wonder why everyone seems to know about things but me, and it's not a position I want to be in anymore.

On the one hand, I'm pleased with the school officials' quick response to a perceived threat, and that the students were responsive and handled the lockdown with aplomb. My son's teacher said the kids were fantastic, followed directions, and knew what to do.

On the other hand, it's pretty terrifying to show up at your child's school and see it surrounded by police cars. Ignorance, in this case, was not bliss.

The Daycare Dilemma

I had a woman ask me if I felt there was a difference between kids who stay home until they are old enough for preschool or kindergarten and kids who are in daycare from infancy or toddlerhood. It was a friendly and sincere discussion, not at all judgmental, and she confided that she likes to ask other mothers' opinions because, in a way, she wants to justify to herself her decision to keep her kids home with her until they're three.

My oldest, NJ, has been in some form of daycare or school since he was four months old. My other two have never been in any kind of daycare or school, except for the four weeks SB spent in a preschool summer program in this past July. I hire the occasional baby-sitter or mother's helper, but, for the most part, SB and GI spend their lives, morning, noon, evening, and nights, with me.

I can't speak much for GI yet, because he's just 13 months. But I can talk about the older two. NJ and SB are very different people. They play well together and love each other and each has traits from both parents, but their personalities are really quite different. NJ is more like his dad, while SB seems to be taking after me. Both are bright, verbal, funny, and enthusiastic. Both love to learn, are curious, like to experiment and figure things out, and like playing with friends. Both are cuddly and affectionate. NJ is less self-driven, more dependent, and likes to be in control. He talks a lot and is fidgety. He asks a lot of questions and insists on being right. He jockeys for attention, likes to be in charge, but also strikes me as a little bit insecure. SB is more independent, more likely to go off and find something to do. He's confident but not bossy. He has trouble sharing (but what 3-1/2-year-old doesn't?). He tells stories and speculates aloud about things. He has more self-control and is less talkative than NJ, unless he's competing with NJ for attention. He has fewer playmates but craves their contact ("Can we go to S's house? Can I play with Y?").

How much of these differences are simply their personalities, what G-d gave them and what they inherited from us, and how much are due to their school/daycare experiences?

I don't know.

I think NJ would be more secure in himself and be able to play more independently if he had been at home with me and had had to entertain himself more. I think SB would know a lot more and have had more stimulation and be less bored if he were in preschool. On the whole, though, I'm not sure that it made a huge difference in their development.

I think the difference lies in me. I think I am different as a parent.

When NJ was a baby and toddler, he was out of the house for a good chunk of my day. I had the house to myself and could get work done and run errands easily by myself. I didn't have to deal with a fussy baby or a whiny toddler most of the day. But, when he was home with me, on a day off from daycare or when he was sick, instead of knowing how to enjoy him and spend time with him, I resented his interference in my daily routine. I didn't know how to balance work and baby, and it was hard for me to let go of the need to produce in my day job.

By contrast, SB was with me all the time. I had to learn to balance work and baby, because I had no choice. It wasn't easy, and I found myself in the same cycle of resentment, where the baby would be fussy and clingy and needy right when I had tons of work to get done. NJ was still at daycare, so I only had one child to deal with, but it was definitely an adjustment. Slowly but surely, I got better at letting go, working at odd times, and simply spending time with my baby.

The result is, I think, that I know SB and GI better than I know NJ. I understand them, I understand their needs and how to handle them. And they have the stable foundation of always having Mommy to run back to.

So, do I think there's a difference between "daycare kids" and "stay-at-home" kids? Yes. But I don't think one is "bad" and the other "good." I don't think there's a "right" choice and a "wrong" choice.

I think it's very healthy for kids to be home with a parent when they are young. They learn that they can depend on you, they learn your values, they learn how you spend your day. They learn important life skills.

I also think it's healthy for kids to be in a setting where they have contact with peers. A child isolated at home with a parent will be bored, will not learn to play nicely with others, and will crave stimulation that he's not getting. It's important to take advantage of a young child's desire to learn and ability to absorb information and establish a foundation of knowledge for when they do eventually start school. I think a parent who is overwhelmed by being with her kids all the time will not parent effectively, will be burned out and jaded, and might not give her child everything he needs.

There are extremes, of course, of parents who never see their kids or kids who only ever see their parents. Neither is of these situations is healthy. A balance is important. If a child is home all day, then it is the parents' responsibility to find some kind of group situation, such as a playgroup, class, or part-time preschool or daycare program, or to set up playdates with the child's friends. If a child is typically in a daycare or preschool situation all day, then it is the parents' responsibility to spend as much time as possible with them in the mornings and evenings and on the weekends and holidays so that the child learns he can depend on his parents and so that the parents understand their child.

Now that SB is approaching four years old, though, I can see his need for more stimulation that I can give him. He craves knowledge, and I can't teach him everything he needs and wants to know. And now that NJ is approaching six (his birthday is in two weeks!) and is in school all day, I can see that he needs me more, for grounding, stability, and discipline. I can't meet SB's needs all by myself any more, but I can - and must - be there more for NJ.

Looking forward to when GI is three or so, I can see that he, too, will need more than just Mommy all the time, but I can also see that, right now, Mommy is his greatest need. I hope that as he grows, I will be able to find that balance with him and that NJ and SB can benefit from it as well.

Today, My Firstborn Started First Grade

It was by no means his first ever first day of school. NJ has been in some form of daycare or preschool since he was a baby. But, somehow, his first day of first grade feels incredibly significant.

He was in public school for kindergarten last year, but they still treated kindergartners with a great deal more tenderness than the rest of the elementary schoolers. Kindergarten was only half a day, for one thing (although he and I would have both preferred a full-day program, had that been an option). The kinders had their own entrance, their own building, and their own playground. They had their own schedule. They didn't mix with the older kids at all, they weren't expected to know much of anything when they started, and there was a lot of love and hand-holding.

Today, I took NJ to school for his first day of first grade, and I realized, he's not a baby anymore. Not in the least. He's expected to be in school all day, in uniform (which I love, by the way). The bathrooms are not connected to the classroom, and if he needs to use the bathroom, he goes by himself. He is expected to control his own food - we send him along with a lunch and a snack, and it's his job to eat the snack at snack time so he'll have lunch later to eat. His day is more structured, more classroom-oriented. This is "for real" school, now!

I was relieved when I dropped him off that some of his friends from his kindergarten class were in his first grade class with him, even sharing a table with him. I was relieved that his teacher seems incredibly sweet and caring and organized. I was relieved to see that many parents are very involved in the classroom, helping out and volunteering, since I can't be (when I introduced myself and apologized that I couldn't be much help in the classroom because of the two younger boys, the teacher laughed and said, "I should be helping you!" See? Sweet.).

I think I am more nervous about his first day than he is. My mom pointed out that he hasn't had a lifetime of summer vacation and first day of school experiences like I have, so he hasn't learned to anticipate the first day in the same way that I have. And he tends to take new experiences in stride. He neither seemed particularly excited nor particularly anxious.

My husband and I are still concerned that this is public school, and, let's be honest, the public schools in our district are not stellar. They're barely mediocre, in fact. We are also concerned that NJ, with his October birthday, will be one of, if not the youngest in his grade, and we hope that his social skills are mature enough to handle being with kids who may be up to a year older than him. He's not even six yet, and won't be for two more months. We considered having him repeat kindergarten, but he's four feet tall and 63 pounds, he can read and add and subtract, he's incredibly articulate, and he's so smart. If he were in kindergarten again this year, he would tower over the barely-fives, and he would be bored out of his skull.

We had this dilemma last year, when we were debating whether he should do another year of preschool and then start kindergarten this fall instead of last fall. Certainly, there are kids in his class with fall birthdays who will be turning seven soon, when NJ will have just turned six. That's the trouble with a December cutoff date. California has since decided to shift the cutoff slowly back to September 1, but NJ was still in the group that could start as long as he had turned five by December 2, 2011, which he certainly did. Most of the other still-fours who started last year were in a pilot program called "transitional kindergarten," which is a two-year kindergarten program to ease the little ones into school, especially those who had never been in a school setting before. They were going to put NJ in that class last year, but thankfully our neighbor was a kindergarten volunteer and said, "No way you are putting him in the TK class. He's way too smart!" And he would have been soooo bored learning to count to 10 and pick out letters. He had already started reading by the time he started kindergarten!

I'm not bragging about NJ, by the way (well, maybe a little). I'm expressing the dilemma we had. Because though NJ may know as much as an average first grader, he is not as socially developed. As a toddler, he was always a little behind in his social skills, preferring the company of kids six months to a year younger than himself. However, he always did more intellectual and developmental growing when he was put in a class where he was one of the younger ones. He likes to be in charge, but he needs to learn to be led. He likes to run the games, but he needs to learn to cooperate. He wants to have friends, but he needs to learn to let his friends make their own choices. And sharing is still hard for him. My husband was especially worried about his social skills for first grade, because if he starts having disciplinary or behavioral issues in first grade, that could haunt him for the rest of his school career. His academics will never be a problem, but he has to get along with his peers, too. But if he's bored in class, that could cause a different sort of behavioral issue, so we made what was the obvious choice: push him forward rather than hold him back. It's not an easy choice. He has a friend who is five days older than him who goes to a different school, and his parents held him back, so he's just starting kindergarten this year. On the other hand, that boy has an older sister who is also an October birthday, and she's quite large for her age (and a girl, so possibly more emotionally mature anyway), so they decided to push her forward! It so much depends on the child.

So far, though, so good. He came home happy. It will be interesting to see how the year progresses and he is challenged more. I was imagining that in two years, I'll be walking two kids to their first day of school, a new kindergartner and a new third grader. I found that very hard to get my head around. At least we have no choice regarding SB's start date. He'll be 5-1/2 when he starts kindergarten, because he has a mid-December birthday. GI, on the other hand, born September 5, will be four days past the cutoff by the time his turn comes around to register for school. Then we'll have to decide whether to try to test him into kindergarten and have him be a barely-five when he starts, or whether we'd rather hold him back and have him start as a just-six. Well, for that, we have four years to worry about it!

On the bright side, NJ's only complaint today was that we didn't pack him enough food for lunch!

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