Little Miss and Grade One

I admit, I had this written about six weeks ago and forgot to post it:

"So Little Miss is off to school this week with her brother - every day.

I knew I would be a little upset about this so I unconsciously made my world VERY busy, botched eight batches of cookie dough, made the van breakdown, got the dog sick, thereby keeping me from thinking of my childless days all week.  But when Mr. called to say he was coming home late I was surprised how perturbed I was.

"So I guess I am going to go try my hardest to get home on time, then." says he, after listening to a great deal of sighing coming at him from the phone.

For years I've been counting the minutes from 4pm to 5:30pm when Mr. Man walks in the door, scoops up the children, makes the perfect supper and saves me from insanity.  For years I have waded through what Mrs. Google calls "the witching hour" where sweet, lovely darlings turn into screaming, hungry beasts and I pray that this is the day Mr. will surprise me and pull in the drive.  Perhaps with flowers.

But today I had no screaming beasts nor sweet darlings, just me, my work, and an entire season of Friends reruns.  So why am I disappointed that he may be home late, if I do not need rescuing?

I think I'm lonely.

Ack, whatever.  Do I chat up the Jehovah's Witnesses and ask how their day is going?  Do I listen intently to telemarketers and buy up stock in hydro because they had such a nice voice?  Do I peer out my windows in hopes that a neighbour will be out and I can ask for an egg?

No, I did none of that.  I can't be lonely.

So what is this mixed feeling of melancholy, desperation, and uncomfortableness?  And how long will it last?  What will it take to cheer my spirits and be thankful for this new change in my day-to-day life?"

*****

So as I read this, six weeks later, I realize I have chatted up the Jehovah's witnesses, I have peered out the windows looking for neighbours, and I have even run to the phone thinking it is ringing, when in fact, it was in my imagination.   I was even pleased to see the health inspector at my shop door this week just to have conversation.

I have been blessed with spurts of Little Miss being home: a day with a cold, two days with a terrible ear infection, and one night and a day with the stomach flu. Not the best of reasons, but nice to have her, just the same.

"Mom, when is it that I get to go to school everyday?" She mumbles one night as I was brushing out her curls.  Ack, poor thing.  She's lonely being home.

I realize she is ready to be at school full time, and with the speed that she is learning to read and write I can finally be happy that she is there, with her brother, filling her mind with wonderful knowledge that she tells me all about when she gets home.

And perhaps a call from Mr. Man everyday at lunch is all I need.

A Conversation Between Two Excitable Gingers

Today I received a call from Little Miss's principal informing me my girl would be moving to a different class, in a different building.

Hmmm.

Apparently, there are too many grade one's in the present building, and a handful need to be moved into the junior school's split grade 1/2 class.

And because Little Miss is SO independent, SO self-confident, and SO outgoing, her teacher has elected her to be one of the few.  In the back of my mind, though, I wonder if it is with a cheerful heart that her teacher pushes her off onto another.  We all know Little Miss can be a handful.

"I'm assuming I do not have any choice in the matter?"  I ask.

"Um, no," the principal says, "but her teacher says she is so independent, so self-confident and so..."

"Oh, yes, I have no doubt she can handle it."  I'm more worried about someone else, I think.

Later, after explaining to Little Miss what was going to happen (and to her big brother who would be seeing her in the school yard), we talked about how we would break it to Mr. Man.  A plan was made.  After a few pointers, Little Miss decided she wanted to tell him herself.  We went over the important parts: how it was all going to be fine, and that her big brother would be there to help her around the big grade fours and fives.

Here's how it went down:

Mr. Man arrives in suit and tie.  Little Miss, in her curly, red ponytails, guides him over the club chairs and asks him to sit down.

"Daddy, come sit here.  I have to tell you something and I don't want you to get upset."

"Yes?" He is amused but at the same time I can tell he is trying to guess what this is about.  I sit in the corner of the room on the steps behind them.  He looks back at me and I grin.

"Daddy, I am moving to the junior school," she says certainly, her hands in front of her, moving in her signature chopping motion. "There are too many grade ones and three kids are moving to the junior school and I've been picked as number three."

"Well, what grade will you be in?" he asks.

"ONE, dad.  Everything's the same." She's getting worked up.  Her calm voice has been forgotten.

"Did you get picked because you were bad?" There's a smile behind his eyes.

"NO, I TOLD YOU!  There are too many grade ones, and my teacher says I am brave!" She exclaims, arms up.

"Oh, because of the big kids." He's uncertain again.

"Yes, and [my brother] will be there to save my life!"  Um, maybe not the best choice of words...

"And when does this happen?" he asks.

"Tomorrow." Again with the chopping motion, "I start the day in the primary school and then they take me for a tour at the junior school, and then that's it!"  She is definitely excited.

Mr. asks me a few worried questions, rubs the top of his head, and then wanders upstairs for awhile.  I think he'll be okay.  It's hard having a daughter who knows everything.

We'll just have to wait and see how this next adventure pans out.

*****

And for a taste of what Little Miss does when I'm not on my mac...