Things I Didn't Say When I Was 5

My Bird is teetering on the cusp of 6. He just finished kindergarten and is warming up for first grade. First grade! Bird is a smart one. I realize that statement holds no credibility, considering they are borne from the keyboard of me, his mother. But trust me, he is a smart cookie. I imagine he takes after me. Ahem. Bird's precocious in a way that is charming and often alarming.

I wish I could hook him up to a tape recorder, if such a thing still exists, so I could capture the funny, crazy, silly, ridiculous stuff that he blurts out. I am amazed at the way his brain works, not only as a testament to the inner workings of his very being, but the sheer shift in how times have changed.

Just a sampling of things I know I did not say when I was 5-years old:

1. This one time, in Chinese class...
2. My German teacher said...
3. That water is zu heiss!
4. I think we need surround sound.
5. Whale is a three-way homonym.
6. But's a homonym too.
7. That hair is called blonde, not yellow, Deal.
8. I'm a LEGO architect.
9. Actually, Mommy, that is a crustacean.
10. My brain must be smart because my head is hard, not mushy.
11. Take my picture! Now can I see it?
12. Can you please pause the TV while I go to the bathroom?
13. Can you please fast forward through the commercials?
14. More proscuitto, please.
15. I'd like to have mussels for dinner tonight.
16. Do those popsicles have high fructose corn syrup in them?
17. The guy in that Hummer thinks he's so cool.
18. That huge car is bad for the environment.
19. Here are my plastic sandwich bags to wash and reuse.
20. Every animal has a job to do on our earth.
21. Sometimes you don't know who's a man and who's a woman because boys can have long hair and earrings.
22. We need some more olives.
23. Smoked salmon for breakfast? Only if we have capers?
24. Super heroes don't exist. Someone just made up the stories to teach us stuff about being strong and respectful.
25. That house is obnoxious!
26. Today in school we learned about nanotechnology.
27. Don't forget to pack the beer for the grown ups!
28. Sometimes the truth makes people feel bad.
    
29. Are you going to blog about that. Mommy?
30. Are you going to tweet what I just said?

So tell me, what are your kids saying that floor you?

Wordless Wednesday: And Off I Go...

Today marks my baby Bird's flight. He finished kindergarten today. sniff sniff. Hats off to you, my first baby.

He would be tickled to read your words of wisdom and congratulations so humor a proud mama, mkay?

Word Up

I hereby present to you a challenge. A word challenge. Insert evil laugh here. Bwahhhhhh!

Following are Bird's spelling words from the Word Puzzle Box in his kindergarten class. Use them in order in a sentence. I'll award the winner bragging rights. Consider it my MasterCard gift to you; it's priceless.

Now tie on those thinking caps and get ready to write!

Shell
Mucous
Land
Foot
Tentacle

Letter to a New Year: Dear 2009 from a Head Case Oddity

Dear 2009,

Thank you for giving 2008 the boot. Of course, I was supposed to get the boots! I'm the one who asked for black stiletto boots for Christmas that I didn't get. Hmmph. Sure 2008 brought all kinds of whoopty-do in its paper sack of life's greatest hits: Mac Daddy and I turned 40, Bird started kindergarten, Deal saved the planet by ditching diapers and pull ups, we went to Disney Land, Barack Obama won the presidential election (which still makes me high just thinking about it), and all the goes-without-saying stuff that I won't say because well, it goes without saying.

2008 also kinda sucked in its own special the-sky-is-falling way. I mean we are in a recession and all. Virtually the whole world order is crashing at our feet that are clad with last fall's shoes because no one can afford to keep up with fashion anymore. Money matters have driven me to insomnia, a slow down in my business has caused premature graying (granted I'm 40 but I still feel like the gray is premature), I suffered an insufferable chronic cough for nine+ months and discovered some weird growth on my vocal chord, and my cat died. I know this last point comes as a surprise to many. It has been so heart breaking that I cannot bring myself to blog about it. Seriously. I'll get to it. I owe her some time in the limelight. 2008 also marked yet another year that kept us away from close friends. Damn fuel surcharges and obnoxiously high airfares stomped out our planned and highly anticipated trip to Europe with the boys. The raping of the American consumer continued.

Oh, I sound awfully negative and ungrateful, don't I? What a wretch am I. Full of venom here at Dirt & Noise. I am grateful for all the joys that 2008 brought. I am. Really. My family is healthy, happy, well fed, warm in winter, cool in summer, clothed, educated, and spoiled. There I go muttering all the stuff that goes without saying.

But 2009, please bring consumer confidence back to our lives. Rejuvenate the economy so that we can breathe the intoxicating scent of optimism again. Heal our wounds, mend our fences, stitch the fabric of our being, and throw us a bone and scratch our itches while you're at it. I'm also going to go ahead and ask for something that I bet everyone would add to the list but is too chicken to ask for: more sex. I figure the year can't be all bad since it does mark George Bush's final farewell, the end of arrogance and errors.

Bring back the good ole days, 2009. Keep us healthy, make us wealthy. And could you maybe cut Obama some slack? He's inheriting some pretty serious shit. Let's treat those little girls with some respect, mkay? Sasha and Malia don't need to be harassed like the offspring of Hollywood royalty. Basically, don't suck as much as 2008 and you'll go down in history. We're all feeling a bit spent so let's spend the new year being grateful, not greedy, honorable, not ornery. I'm not one for resolutions (no sense setting myself up for failure and disappointment), but I'll sign up for an attitude adjustment.

Thanks for obliging, 2009. I'm looking forward to seeing what you bear in your sack of tricks. I'm going to do my part to make it a rockin' year.

Peace, love, and laughter.

Kindergarten: Beginning or End?

I wrote about the unofficial start to kindergarten last week. Today was the real deal. Does today's milestone mark the end of a beginning? The beginning of an end? Is it an end of sorts or simply a new beginning?

Bird was a champ, even humoring me, posing for photos. He was silly, excited, anxious, and delightful. I think his Batman lunchbox gave him super special powers.

Me? I should win an Oscar for Best Performance by a Mother Dropping Her Son Off for the First Day of Kindergarten.

Mac Daddy, Deal, and I accompanied Bird to school. We drove separately since Mac Daddy had to leave to head out of town. The boys rode with Mac Daddy, leaving me with nothing but NPR to distract me. That was a tall order for BBC News Hour today. I silently wept to myself, not even wiping my tears with the back of my hand. Not the full blown heaving cry, but tears that trickle and sobs that whisper. Five years flashed before me in a nanosecond, which is about the amount of time it seems has passed.

I spend much of my time butting heads and wills with Bird and I admittedly threaten to put him on Ebay an awful lot (I have said that I would pay someone to take him. Mother of the year, material, I know). I even put him in time out on his birthday, but that's another story. However, at the end of the day, he is my kindred spirit. I feel his pains and joys like they are my own because he is me. I see myself in his every action, word, grimace, sneer, chuckle, pang, aha moment.

And so I wept for the hiccup of time I had with my son before he turns his wings to glide elsewhere. My wingspan no longer enough for him.

Bird positively galloped down the steps and hung up his backpack as if it were on the hook in our own mudroom. The kid didn't miss a beat. I ran ahead to dutifully fulfill my shutterbug responsibilities. I nuzzled my face into his hair and shed some more tears. Super silent this time, lest I project my anxiety onto him. Bird was hesitant to sit at his table at first, but one look at the gecko eyeballing him from the neighboring table distracted him enough to take a seat and stare back. We hastily gave our kisses, hugs, squeezes, words of encouragement, more kisses, and were on our way. I peeked through the forest of little heads and snapped a photo of Bird cracking up while cozying up to his tablemates. That kid lights up when he has an audience.

Cue Niagara Falls upon my feet hitting the sidewalk. Mac Daddy gave me a hug, said his requisite words of comfort, and left. Truth is, he didn't know what to do with me. Truth is, his world does not change. He'll still see Bird before work, after work, and for the random lunch date here and there. It is my world that changed forever today. It is I who grew the wings and sent them off to fly today.

I swallowed my tears, grabbed Deal up into my arms with an extra hard squeeze, and hit the gym. If there was ever a day I needed Jason to work my ass to a pulp, it was today.

I am not worried about my Bird at all. He will make me proud and have the guts and gumption to be and do more than I did.

And me? I'm anxiously waiting for 3:45.

Kindergarten Tears and Triumphs

Cesar Chavez. Jim Henson. John Lennon. Jane Goodall. Albert Einstein. Pablo Picasso. Mahatma Gandhi.

Those are the faces peppering the halls as you enter my son's school. An international studies magnet school (public! free!) in our homogeneous neck of the woods is a dream. Five foreign languages taught starting in kindergarten. My Bird's gonna learn French! Curriculum designed to cover a global perspective. Again, a dream, considering my children say the words for grandma and grandpa in three different languages. We are the UN of families, and we are not alone as soon as we walk through the brick corridors of my son's school. My. Son's. School.

I have no reason to feel such trepidation. No reason to be anxious. No need to be so scared. So sad.

Millions of parents do it every fall. Most live to tell about it. I think I can. I think I can. I think I can.

I couldn't.

Let me get one thing out in the open. I cried. More than tears welling up in my eyes with a dumpling stuck in my throat but less than Niagara Falls. I'm saving up my boo-hooing for Tuesday, when school officially starts full time. Five. Days. A. Week. Oh, and when I have Mac Daddy at my side to mop me up. I treated today as a test drive. Denial. They say admitting it is the first step to recovery.

Bird, my Baby Bird, started kindergarten today. A milestone indeed. I suppose this is the stuff that makes people hate and doubt "mommy bloggers." I say fuck you. This stuff is important and has an impact on the human spirit, certainly a mom's spirit. Sending your child to spend more hours with someone else than you is a giant step. We spend so much time wishing away the time that we often forget to enjoy the ride. "I can't wait for him to talk. I can't wait for him to walk. He's making me nuts. When will school start?" Well folks, school has started, and I miss my Baby Bird already. Day One.

I have arranged my work schedule to eat three squares a day with my boys. I also take them to school and pick them up everyday. Now Bird is sitting in some cafeteria eating a ham sandwich and edamame out of his Batman lunch box with rowdy 5 year olds talkin' smack about Star Wars and Bumble Bee. Oh, and some little bully's gonna tease him about eating edamame and other stuff like snap peas and hummus. Bird told me that he met a bully today, in fact. I guess the kid headbutted Bird in the belly. When I asked Bird what the kid's name is, he responded, "I didn't ask, Mommy. I don't care what his name is because I don't want to be his friend." Then he asked me if I thought the bully would beat him up for not being his friend. Gawd, I can't handle the social pressure at the tender age of 5 (technically 4 til Friday!).

Yes, that's right. Bird will be 5 in two days, making him the youngest kid in kindergarten. Yet he makes the cut off. And you know what, he's totally ready. I know he's ready. I know Mac Daddy and I made the right decision to send him to kindergarten. No waffling here. The simple truth is, I'm not ready. As one feels intimate with one's mortality after a tragedy, I feel time slipping away more briskly than I thought possible. I never understood the whole time flies speech from seasoned parents when my guys were newborns. Now I've been initiated into the club. I get it. Every second is palpable. I hear the sands' of time grainy count down. My heart beats to the tick tocking of the clock. I get it. Time is the elusive beast.

My Bird, in the end, fared exceptionally well today. He took a good 10 minutes to let go of my leg and squeeze past the book shelves in the library to join the throng of kids. He refused to sit at a table with other kids, choosing an empty table instead (totally unlike his gregarious personality). Bird and Deal (who was also stressed, sensing it from us, no doubt), proceeded to color and draw rocket ships, aliens, and such. When it was time to get in line, Bird grasped my legs again. I silently willed him to break away lest I cry. My tears would have exacerbated an already tender situation. Alas, I realized I left my keys by the bookcase and had a legitimate excuse to step away. Those wily teachers took that opportunity to whisk him away. I took an extra long time to gather my keys (and umbrella that I would have forgotten on this soggy day) so I could do some quick yoga breathing and put on a happy face for Deal.

Deal and I spent the day as we usually do: gym, Starbucks, Target (2 1/2 hours!). In fact, at Starbucks, Deal insisted I buy an extra Horizon vanilla milk for Bird to enjoy when he gets home from school. That's my sensitive boy. I'll be too much of a wreck to blog when my baby goes to kindergarten. Now I know what my mom means by the "baby of the family" mess she blabbers on about when she refers to me. Even pushing 40, I'm still a baby.

My poor Bird spent 30 minutes of his first day of school with his head under a desk because we had tornado warnings in our county. Apparently the teachers and staff operated with aplomb. Teaching is tough enough without Mother Nature stumbling in the path. And let's face it, all the other mothers are probably more challenging to deal with.

When I picked up Bird from school, he greeted me with a gigantic grin and an ecstatic, "Mommy, my day was awesome!" At dinner his thank you for the day was that he got to go to kindergarten.

And so it goes. Once again my children are the ones teaching me a life lesson: Children are way more flexible and resilient than we give them credit for. Moms are another story. At least this mom is. I'm torn between tears of sorrow and tears of pride.