|Required backpack pic|
She goes two mornings per week at our parish, and so far, so good. Her reporting on her day is still a work in progress, so there's not too much information about what's going on, but the evidence all points to "going well": No tears. Ran into class the second and third days. Came home covered in paint. Reported on Thursday that it was, "just fun." Winning.
A week in, and also I'm loving that preschool is getting me out of bed more consistently each morning. I have to be ready before the kids get up if I want to make drop-off on time without craziness. I mean, the actually getting out of bed is awful (and I know will only get worse when the weather turns), but once I'm up, it's amazing. I can be showered and a cup of coffee in before I serve my first cup of milk. I've sworn my allegiance to me-time in the mornings a million times, and fallen off the bandwagon just as many, but having to get to school is keeping me going. I'm actually excited to be up before the sun. Talk to me in a few days/weeks/months/years.
On the other hand, I was shocked at how preschool drop-off affected Peter. I actually didn't expect much of a reaction from him at all, thinking instead, "Ooooh, time with Peter!" But Peter had never really been away from Clare in his short little life and was distraught the whole first day. He clung to me in the saddest little way. He did better on Thursday and seemed pretty much over it yesterday, so I think he's figured out that she's coming back, but that first day was pretty darn sweet.
|He didn't know what was about to hit him. Poor kid. Also, his face in this picture cracks me up.|
Then, yesterday, she had her first ballet class. To say that she was excited would be the understatement of the century. She was thrilled. Thrilled I tell you. She's pretty much lived in ballet slippers since they arrived in the mail (thanks, Amazon!) a couple of weeks ago. There was quite the throng of parents craning in the observation window last night, including so many dads (including Charles!) who somehow managed to make it to their little girl's ballet class. It was pretty heartwarming. Anyway, Clare took the first half of class so seriously that it was almost comical. At one point, there was another girl acting like, well, a three year old, and Clare gave her a look that clearly said, "this is not silly; this is ballet." But again, she was smiling the whole time and is still being a ballerina today, so I think it is another win.
|Trying to get a first day of ballet picture.|
|The best I got of my tiny dancer. (<--When has cheezy ever stopped me?)|
So all of that is goodgreatawesomefantastic and all of that, but oh-my-gosh, I am also the mom of a kid in activities. I have a real schedule. Commitments. A night that I have to have dinner going in the CrockPot so that I can feed my exhausted brood the nanosecond we get home from ballet Tuesday night lest they implode. I love it. I thrive on schedules. But I also dread the future day when my life is over-scheduled and over-activitied and over-Crocked, because life. What's great in small doses adds up to a lot if you don't keep it in check, you know?!? I'm trying to take it a day at a time, and just enjoy the now. Because ^^^^^ all that is pretty darn great!