Preschool Times
At the end of last month Veronika started preschool. She goes every morning, from Monday to Friday from 9 to 11.30. (Thanks to a government-funded program this is within our budget.) We are in week 3 and she is still just as enthusiastic as on day 1. Preschool has turned out to be awesome, even more awesome than I expected (and I expected very awesome). I know this was supposed to be for her, but I feel like I'm the one who really lucked out.
I will readily admit that Veronika isn't really challenged enough at home and at this point she needs it badly. She loves discovering things and group activities and structure and tasks. All of these things I can't give her, especially not with an infant in my arm and the amount of sleep equivalent to a few wrinkled bills of change. We had been driving each other crazy - her with constantly needing something and asking a million questions and me, annoyed and exhausted redirecting her constantly so she would leave me alone. It doesn't help that I'm really not one for playing with little kids on a regular basis. I admire teachers, but please don't make me be one. Maybe that explains part of her undying love for preschool: Her mom sucks at playing.
Every morning she gets up asking me: "Wo wir gehen?" (Where are we going?" and I say "preschool". Upon hearing the magic word she grins from ear to ear and makes this noise that cannot be described except as the definition of glee. We wash up, pick out the outfit ("I want the pink rock (=skirt)!") and the hairstyle ("Pinktails, mama!"), have breakfast ("Bibap cereal!") and walk out the door (ok, we drive, so.) and I bathe in her happiness and excitement. It is just perfect: I don't have to go, but I get all the feelings. Once we're there she will tell me something like "Where's Ms Kelly? She's waiting for me!" or "She's calling me!" - literally, she can hear the school speaking to her for afar. When she sees he teacher, she will give her the hug of the year or a high five UNINVITED (I saw this, I'm not kidding. I've never gotten a high five out of her, by the way.) After that she disappears in the crowd. Pretty much. I will get a hug and a kiss but really, who cares.
What comes next is... peace and quiet. If we don't run an errand, Ivan and I come home, he takes a nap and I do nothing. If that is what I want. Or I do something. If that is what I want. Obviously it is not enough time for a lot of things or lengthy things, but it is something. It's a time when I can hear my thoughts and they are not "Is it 8 o'clock yet?" or "I am so tired, SO TIRED! Can anybody hear me?" I carve out a little autonomy there, I feel a little normal because there is no one around challenging every decision I make even if it's as minor as... leavethatdoorcloseduntili'mdonepeeing!!! So yeah, the preschool situation is working for me.
I pick her up at 11.30 and I love, love doing it. The kids come down the stairs and step outside and one by one they are handed off to their parents. It's my favorite moment... watching her in her jacket and backpack searching for me with her eyes... then when she sees me her face relaxes into a bright smile. I fetch her and she makes that noise again (glee!) and immediately blurts out the important part: "Crackers and milk, mama!". Who cares what the art project was, what did you eat, kid? That's my girl.
She is tired on the ride home, but I can virtually see all the new stuff she's heard and seen brewing in her head. Again I get all giddy, as if it was me. I imagine the singing, the fingerpainting, the slide on the playground... all her favorite things every morning! That's when I dream off picturing a preschool for me. What would it be like? A craft project set up for me when I arrive, then cleaned up by someone else when I'm done, singing with my friends, some quiet time, then a walk in the park and at the end... food! All of this of course accompanied with an insane amount of praise and excitement over every little thing I accomplish ("You ate your cake! You drank your coffee! GOOD GIRL!). This is what heaven is like... like preschool.
I know this is not something a mother is supposed to admit (attachment parents feel free to frown excessively), but not seeing your child 24 hours a day every day is a tremendous relief, it creates the right amount of distance for me to be able to see things a little more clearly, to miss her and to appreciate her when she comes back.
Posted at 07:15 PM on September 20, 2006
That is such a sweet post! I've never met her but I can just imagine what your daughter is like when I put together the pictures I've seen with your fabulous depictions of it all. I only wish that much pure joy was part of our schooling experience. Kindergarten was a really happy time for my dd but now first grade is very mediocre. She's gone for 7 hours every day and she usually can only think of very insignificant or disappointing details to share with me ("We made sand-dirt at recess...it's when you mix sand and dirt" or "The whole first grade got in trouble for talking in P.E. so tomorrow we have to practice sitting quietly the whole period.") I feel kinda melancholy about it all and wish she came home more cheery and excited.
Enjoy. Breaks are nice. Especially if you don't have to drag her there, but she likes it.
I feel kinda melancholy about it all and wish she came home more cheery and excited.
Lindsey,
Part of growing up is school goes from the fun of fingerpainting and slides to "school". You know that place we have to go to everyday and do work, and get really happy when summer vacation comes...
Right now my 4-year old follows me around with reading books: "Mommy, can I read? I want to read!" just like his brother did a few years ago. Now my 7-year old hides and runs away when I ask him to get his reading book.
Yeah, my kids couldn't wait to go away to pre-school (except for my second one, who hated it, but that's a long story...)
And now that I have only the two at home, it's a nice break having the 4 year old go off to his little pre-school, where, as you put it so well, they get to all play, do crafts, sing, and read stories together. Things, I, as a bad mother, do not do all that often, but wish I did more.
A pre-school for parents,... now there's a thought... I'd love to go to your pre-school, or should that be post-school?
I got to take painting lessons once, a few years back... it was Heaven... and the "lessons" weren't so much about learning how to paint, as just having some time to paint in a place where noone was going to bother me... Did I mention it was Heaven?