When you've got a child, you hit miles stones constantly. When they first lift their heads up whilst on their tummies, when they manage to sit up unaided, when they stand up unaided, then they start walking around and never stop. They get teeth, they begin to eat food, stop drinking breast milk and/or formula. They grow out of newborn clothing, then three months clothing, six month clothing, nine month, twelve months, and just when you think they have slowed they no longer fit into 18 months. Just when you think you've got this whole having a child thing under control, they begin talking.
Miles stones. So many mile stones.
EMO (who still munches time, but I think I'm gonna call her EMO from now on here, as she can be kinda emo sometimes) just hit another milestone: preschool registration. Granted, I didn't fill out the mountains of paper work, got copies of her shot records, or whatever else is needed to really "register," but I did fork over money to reserve her spot at a preschool at a local Methodist Church.
I know nothing of preschool. Especially when the kids are only two. I began preschool when I was turning three. And other than screaming when my mother left me, wearing my shoes on the wrong feet, and being hit in the head with a metal truck, I don't remember much.
I was not a social child. I was perfectly content at home, alone, and entertaining myself by pretending my clothes were people. By the time I was three, we'd moved to a neighborhood where there were children who were my age, several in fact. They became my childhood friends and several of them attended the Frog School as I have always called it. (I've no idea what it's actually called some 30 years later.) I cannot tell you if I had a good experience there. I don't remember a lot of those year other than I wasn't allowed to be Rainbow Bright and had to be a bear, I cried a lot at the start of each day when my mother left me, and a little boy threw a truck at my head for reasons I could never figure out.
Preschool is important. I know that much. I also know EMO is a social being and unlike myself really likes other people and going out. Since she was born, I've been dragging myself out mostly for her benefit (mine is just a side benefit). We go shopping. We go to art class. In the summer months I take her to the gym and let her socialize with those whose parents would also like to work out and not have a child climbing all over them when they are trying to do Russian twists or downward dog. It was last summer I realize I needed to do something with EMO to expose her to more kids, as she LOVED it when other kids showed up, no matter their age. Shortly after I began to panic on what do to with the poor kid (didn't need day care, couldn't see paying for it if I didn't need it), one of the girls who I had been friends with as a small child and gone to the Frog School with (and put our shoes on the wrong feet together) posted on Facebook her two-year-old daughter had started Frog School.
I was like, "Wait? Two-year-olds can go to preschool?!"
And I instantly began to see if there were places other than the fancy place in town to send EMO. (Well, it might not be fancy, but they won't even post their tuition prices online. You must call.) After an afternoon of searching, I found a preschool taking place in a Methodist church. Due to this, I decided this was it. This was where EMO was going.
I grew up going to a Methodist Church and some of my best memories are in that musty, dusty smelling building. I am not overly religious. I was allowed to form my own believes and will allow my daughter to do the same. But, I am partial to Methodist Churches. I knew the moment I entered, I'd picked the right joint. It felt like home, familiar, and even smelled the same as the church I'd gone to as a kid. Since I had no idea where I was supposed to meet the woman who was going to give us a tour, I wandered a little till I heard the sound of children and headed down the stairs.
It was like walking back in time. While not everything was the same (no half finished Noah Ark murals on the walls and not totally made out of cinder blocks, there was something comforting about the building. The church was huge, so it took us a while to find the offices. We then sat and waited a little while, EMO pointing out all the fruits that were taped to the walls and failing to find the banana when asked.
As the tour took place, I was struck more and more how the building, thousands of miles away from the church of my childhood, was startling like my own. We walked through their "fellowship hall" and man, I was taken back. While the church itself is a lot more beautiful than the one I attended for years, it still felt right.
So, I filled out the form to reserve her spot, forked over $48 for the art fee, EMO waved goodbye to the tour lady (who had put her shoes back on and her coat, my girl is not shy in the least), while the other girl who was on the tour who was about a year older screamed.
While I wouldn't say the girl was horrible, she was really testing boundaries. The mother was mildly embarrassed, but handled it well. I tried not to feel smug while EMO held my hand, put away toys when asked, and was all around the perfect toddler that make others think, "Hey, this wouldn't be so bad if my kid was as well behaved as EMO." A friend of mine who gave birth this passed weekend said the same thing after sitting with EMO when I got my haircut last week.
While EMO does throw fits, they almost always happen at home, and if they are in public she fails to get the reaction she wants, usually doesn't get what she wants, and gets Angry Mom face. This seems to work. She might pout, but soon someone will say something to her and she'll smile again.
EMO still refuses to eat anything green (except pickles), won't eat meat (except hot dogs), and won't eat anything healthy other than fruit. She has a skin allergy to peanut butter, but sometimes to get protein into her (she recently decided she was above eggs), I feed it to her in limited qualities (mostly if I barely put any on the bread, she doesn't get it all over her face). She is still the most horrible napper known to man, but she will take them. Sometimes. She always goes to bed at eight, usually is asleep by nine and doesn't wake till seven the next morning. She won't eat breakfast if I make it, but if it's in smoothie form she will eat it.
My little girl is growing up. She is testing her boundaries to see what she can get away with. She will start school next fall.
Do I miss the newborn stages? The cuddles, the baby smell, nursing, the quiet, the being immobile?
No.
About the only thing I miss is...nothing. I was anxious for her to get to this stage, where she was discovering things, playing, and talking (or trying). I wake up each morning exhausted (because I have that cold that won't go away and cannot stop coughing), but I smile as it's another fun filled day with EMO. That kid has been independent and stubborn since she came out. Being a newborn frustrated her to no end. She wanted to sit up. She wanted to roll away. When she was finally able to do these things...she was so proud. And once she started walking, god, I've never seen a happier child.
Today, as we toured the school, she held her hand out to me, she dragged me to the bins of toys, then abandoned me instantly when there were other children were around.
I smiled, didn't feel sad. I felt elated.
EMO is going to love preschool, just as she's loved every, single milestone she's reached so far on her way to being an independent person.
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