1st day, 2nd grade

Big kids

                       The first loose tooth and reading Bob books? How did they get this big?

Seven

She was born in the season of cherry blossoms, that first pale sign of Spring. She surprises me constantly with her questions and her knowing. She is so attuned to the emotions of others, takes it all in so deeply. She's my book-lover, my silly dancer, my crafty fancy lady. 

Seven years now you've been shaking up my world and showing me so many things. But mostly the love. The crazy wild love. 

Happy Birthday, Unity Jane.  

Hand-me-downs

That moment, when you see a friend's toddler wearing a cute hoodie...

and you remember another sweet baby who used to wear it.

Growing, groovy guitars and great Legos

the first and the last

                        Hard to believe but it's true, Unity has now completed Kindergarten. Here she is holding the picture she teacher took of her on the first day, which they made into magnets and used for attendance. She looks so tiny in that picture. I guess she kind of was.

This year, wow. When I think of all the ways she's grown it blows my mind. She started out barely able to sound out a word and now she reads Fancy Nancy books comfortably by herself. Same thing for math- she's gone from doing just the basic counting works to doing addition, subtraction, number place, and the beginnings of telling time and counting money. (And speaking of, when did Kindergarten become the new first grade? Sheesh.) It's been such a huge year socially and emotionally as well.
The new friendships, the new building, learning how to interact in a big community of older kids. Despite the occasional inappropriate jump-rope song that made it's way home, we have really enjoyed watching who she is becoming in this new world of hers.

and now, summer. I am so looking forward to just hanging out and going to the library and meeting up with friends and eating breakfast in our pajamas. Summer, here we come.

Spring

Out growing

With a birthday coming up, and lots of ankles and wrists sticking out of clothes, I decided to do a closet purge. I have to do it when she's not home because she bursts into tears at the thought of getting rid of any of her clothes because they are all her FAAAAvorite, especially the ones that don't fit and that she never wears.
So I'm going through drawers and making piles and when I find the little tiny baby sock, my heart stops for a second.

I am not one of those people who couldn't wait to clear out all the baby clutter. I know people like that, who showed up at my front door with garbage bags full of clothes and gear at the first mention that I was pregnant. I am not one of those people who is longing for the day when all the kids in my house are out of diapers, or who cheers when they realize they don't need highchairs anymore.

I am the person who holds each baby sock tenderly and folds it and can't quite put it in the Goodwill pile.

I am the person who kept the highchair in the basement for years, just in case, and only was persuaded to let it go, ahem, a couple of months ago.

When we moved the kids into their shared room and thus Brixton moved into his big kid bed in January, I kept the crib. Of course I kept the crib. It's stacked in pieces in the basement. In case we have any baby house guests.

I'm always glad to see the ways my kids are changing and growing and learning and becoming more themselves. I love it, I love hearing about what they love and what they know and what they wonder about.

But I miss when they fit in the space between my wrist and my elbow, I miss feeling their tiny limbs fluttering as they turned around and around in their universe inside me. I miss knowing that I was walking around with life growing somehow in the spaces I carry.

A couple of years ago, I was wearing Brixton facing out in the Moby and I went to a Greek Festival at a local church. There was a room with tables full of food and crafts and all the Greek bubbies were there selling their wares. As soon as I walked into the room, one of the bubbies motioned me over.
"You. Bring that baby over here." I did as instructed, and she reached across her table of fancy feta to tickle his feet and squeeze those lovely plump baby legs.

Even then, I realized I was looking at my future. That I am going to be that lady, commanding visits from the babies and admiring those legs. And that future is starting in five...four..three...two...

the earth goes around the sun tra la la

 

Brixton seems to think that his birthday is an entire month-long event. And, you know, I can see his point. We've had multiple celebrations, including this most recent one at school. I love the Montessori tradition of carrying the earth around the sun. Brixton walked his three years around the circle while Chris told stories about when he was a baby, one, and two. He has started asking strangers on the bus "Do you remember when I was a baby?"

 

 

We have our own ceremony at home too. The measuring against the door frame, watching the leaps of growth and realizing it really is that quick.

 

 

 

I'm thankful for these rituals that remind us to stop and notice all the amazing growth they're doing.

 

Brixton's first day

 

Yesterday Brixton had his first day of preschool. He was excited and totally ready.

 

He has the little brother advantage in that he already knows the school and the teachers and has been hanging around the place for the past two years.
 He did have to learn that there is a difference between being the little brother who comes at the end of the day and runs around and being a student. He was very surprised when a teacher told him to sit down during circle time.

When it was time to lie down for nap time, he got very upset and told his teachers that he was never coming back to school again. Ten minutes later he was asleep.

He is so excited to go back. "You're going to miss me." he says. "and when you get me, I'll tell you all my things."

Ok big kid. It's a deal.

Graduation!

Well and now it's her turn to cross the stage. Graduation was full of all the fidgets and fancy and forgotten lyrics that you would expect from a group of 5 year olds.

 

 

They cheered for each other and admired each other's flowers. They hugged and chased and stepped on each others toes, while promising to always be friends.

They cleaned out cubbies and checked the lost and found for missing socks and outgrown jackets.

 

Her teacher told me that this year has been one of her favorite classes. "They are so kind to each other, so compassionate." she said.

 

She's grown well here. Been listened to and respected. Been challenged and excited. She's come home with bean plants and paintings, and stories about worms.

 She's grown deep tumultuous friendships, with sincere attachment and sibling-like squabbles.

 

It's been a good place for all of us.

 

 

 

But mostly for her. Which is all I was hoping for when I labored over my piles of applications. I wanted to find a place that would appreciate her, help her grow into herself only more so.
And it has, it did.

Walking across the stage, coming home with a paper certificate and a shiny ribbon metal. Ending one chapter. Turning another page.