Day 3 and Day 4
Imagine that you’re laying in your bed, having some weird dream about a politician trying to convince you to vote for them, when you distantly hear a scrambling and scuffling noise coming from your kitchen. You have two dogs though, so it’s not too out of the ordinary. Then comes the “pat pat pat” of little feet running down the hall, little arms and legs scrambling into your bed… and then a freezing cold, dripping fudgcicle is planted onto your nice, warm arm. HELLO 6AM!
And that is how we began Day 3 of school.
Me: “Norah, WHY do you have a popsicle at 6AM?!”
Norah: “Mama, I can finish it after breakfast?”
And her early wake-up was on the heels of us finding her in her sister’s bed at 10PM the night before, having moved her pillow, all her stuffed animals, and all of her sheets and blankets into the top bunk, on top of her sleeping sister, in an attempt to wake her up to play with her.
Needless to say a morning started on sleep deprivation and sugar did not go well. There was more screaming and crying when it was time for Norah to go into her classroom that day, but it was over in less than 2 minutes – a new record!
Though I very nearly ruined it. The school has Mass on Wednesday mornings. It just so happened that our bishop was saying Mass and so, in my work capacity, I was there to photograph it. I didn’t realize the K3 class was in the church until I turned the corner and saw Norah pressed up against the teacher, chattering away.
I never knew I possessed an inner ninja and that I could move so efficiently or so quietly until I had to back peddle my way down the aisle and out of the church before she saw me and her screaming could halt the homily.
Later – in what is quickly becoming my favorite part of the day – we had our usual after school driving home discussion. After Sarah carefully outlined both of the girls’ entire days, telling me how Norah cried all day, especially at recess, I took a deep breath and tried a different approach. “So,” I said, “Can everyone tell me something happy that happened to them today?”
Sarah immediately launched into a story of arts and crafts and the bishop visiting her class. She was so proud that when he asked if anyone knew his first name, she had the answer ready and waiting. (Turns out having the bishop over for dinner at our house had a big impact on my kiddos).
Then it was Norah’s turn. I asked her to tell me something happy that happened to her during the day. She sat quietly, pondering. And right as I started to repeat myself, she quietly murmured, “The bishop said ‘ello to me.” My heart melted and I started to get hopeful about school again.
Last night we decided that we were going to do everything in our power to make Day 4 better – and that started with Norah going to sleep before 10PM. So, Mark and I took turns standing sentry outside her bedroom door. Every attempt to get out of bed was met with time out in the corner. An hour in, just as I was giving up all hope of it working, she caved and went to sleep. 9PM was late, but it was still an hour earlier than she’s been keeping herself awake for.
This morning’s wake up was notably better: No time-outs (and no fudgcicles for that matter). For the drive to school, we let Norah hold her stuffed buddy Snoopy and we put on dancing music. The protests still started when we turned onto the street our school is on, but we pressed on. It was starting to rain, so we quickly grabbed our backpacks and made a dash for the school, leaving Snoopy to wait patiently for his friend’s afterschool return in the car.
As soon as we walked inside the school, the pleas continued. “Mama, I don’t want to go to Sarah’s school. Mama, I want to go home with you. Mama, hold me.” I braced myself for the moment when morning assembly was over and she would have to go to the classroom – the moment when the tantrums have started every day. We got her backpack and as she watched her classmates line up to leave, I saw something click in her brain.
Suddenly she was dashing off towards her classmates, elbowing her way to the front of the line where she defiantly declared to her teacher, “I want you!” And then proceeded to, matter of factly and without tears, lead all of her classmates down the hall to their classroom.
I think my dear child must have thought, “Well, if you can’t beat ‘em, lead ‘em.”
And that, my friends, is my wild and strong girl in a nutshell.
After she walked through the door, when I recovered from my initial shock, I danced in celebration right in the middle of the gym for everyone still filing out to see, high fiving my friend Stephanie and the assistant principal. By gosh my girl, we are going to get through this.