Pix is a Kindergartner now. I thought that she would jump right in and have a great time. She’s not. She’s sad. Every morning she tells me she doesn’t want to go to school and I have to spend 2 hours pumping her up. It’s like her own personal pep rally every morning. I’m exhausted. Not just because I’m not good at motivational speeches, also because once I get her to school my stomach is in knots just hoping she survives yet another day. Kindergarten is so much different that preschool. The kids show up, they find their pick axes and break large boulders down into tiny pebbles out in the flaming hot sun. If they’re lucky, the teacher might read them a story before they head home. I kid, of course!
Luckily, Pix has a great teacher who is trying to help her through this transition. She is loving and understanding. Mrs. D is even emailing me regularly as we try to figure out the best solution to make Pix feel better about school. The tears are happening around lunch time. I thought that maybe Pix was feeling overwhelmed in the school yard, surrounded by all these new kids. She told me that she opens her lunch and it’s so pretty, she thinks of me and misses me.
I asked her if it would help if I sent her to school with a brown bag of fish heads? We decided that probably wasn’t the best solution. Mrs. D is trying out a reward program for her to earn a sticker for every day she gets through with no (or at least minimal) tears. I know that Pix wants to please but as she told me, “I’ll try not to cry but my heart will be crying on the inside”. Fair warning, still waters run deep.
I know we will get through this. I’m sure of it. It took Clarabelle years to be able to get to school without worrying or crying. I thought that I’d be jaded by now. I believed that if either of the littles were going through the same thing I could just shrug my shoulders and say, “Deal with it kid. You’ll survive.” I guess it doesn’t work that way. Mothers’ hearts don’t grow calluses.