Silence is Golden

My son is a silent all-star. I love walking the halls of his school with him. The girls adore him. They giggle and give shy little waves as he walks by. The boys think he's cool. He gets a lot of shout outs in the hallways. The teachers love him. I get endless comments about how polite he is, how well behaved he is, how smart he is. And what response does all of this attention get from the boy? A silent head nod or silent half grin. That's it. He has silently charmed the entire school.

I'm truly not mom-exaggerating here. I wish you could all see it. I wish I could video our walk through the hallways. But that would be a little more than embarrassing I'm sure. He is adored and it comes so naturally to him that I don't think he realizes that everyone doesn't get that kind of attention. And I truly cannot express how silent this boy is. A wave here, a nod there, and an occasional smile, but rarely a word. It's incredible.

This weekend we got a call from the school. They wanted our permission to move him into another classroom. They were compiling all of the "Talent Developement" kids into one classroom. (All schools have this program. My childhood school called it "Gifted and Talented". You know, it's the smart kids that get to leave class early to go build robots or something.) We want him to be challenged and want the best for him, but it was still a hard decision to make because he really loved his other teacher. This morning I went to school with him to help him move his gear from one classroom to the next. So I got to walk the hallways with him. As always he was silent as he was waved at, giggled at, and spoken to. He opened doors for me as we walked which got him more gushing from those who observed it. I was very proud to be his mom today, though I don't believe I can take any credit here. This is who he is. He is naturally silent and sweet.

We got to his old classroom and I thought his teacher was going to cry. She pulled me aside and let me know how wonderful my son is. She told that me he is very sensitive and mature for his age, an old soul. That is a great way for any mom to start the day. Then we went down to the other classroom where he got a standing ovation as we walked in. I'm not making that up. Every kid in the classroom stood up and cheered and clapped. It was ridiculous. And what did this boy who is so loved do. He smiled, very politely said hello to his new teacher, and silently walked to his new desk. Then he silently sat down and got right to work.

And I silently left my silent boy to silently charm the world around him as he proves that silence is truly golden.

Yiasou!

We skipped church this morning and went to the Greek Festival instead. I feel good about that decision because I'm pretty sure it's an event that Jesus would have loved to attend. Nobody in their right mind would pass up a chance for Baklava and a Frappe. People sitting around enjoying good food and jovial conversation while children in traditional Greek dress perform for proud mamas and papas. All centered around a beautiful Greek Orthodox Church filled with fantastic stained glass. It's a lovely mess of true community. I love everything about it. Yiasou!

Weekends Are For...

...learning new things.

For overcoming the scrapes and falls that come with learning new things.

And for the smile that comes from being proud of yourself as your friends and family cheer you on.

New Mornings

My mornings are different these days, but good.

I wake at six, pour a strong cup of coffee, and start making lunches. Then I quietly make my way upstairs to gently wake the little sleepers, feeling horrible as I pull them from their dreams when it is still dark outside. I help them dress as they are half blind from sleep. The boy has given up on sharing a bathroom with two girls, so he heads downstairs as soon as he stumbles out of bed, sounding much like I assume an elephant would, pounding heavily on each stair. I leave the girls to primp and clean, meet Chris in the kitchen, and feed the cat. I finish packing up the backpacks while they eat. Three kids and a cat munching loudly or staring sleepily absent minded so that I have to poke them a little and point to food. As they finish, they grab backpacks and shoes. I grab keys and the coffee that I have yet to finish and make the short drive to school. I give kisses and goodbyes and they are gone. As I get home, Steven is leaving. After a good-bye kiss, I begin my morning of silence.

I get my cereal bowl and head to the cool patio. It's still and breezy. The cat curls up at my feet. The kids gone. The husband gone. The neighbors gone. It's silent except for the chatter of the birds. Before I go to start errands and chores, I close my eyes and soak it in. It's lovely.

This morning a butterfly landed by my toes. A blue butterfly.

This is my how my morning goes now. Different but good.

Mellow

I went to dinner with my love in a nice hippie place with colorful walls and cake stands at the bar filled with irresistible goodness. I ate mushroom stuffed ravioli and a mile high slice of caramel-apple cake. The ravioli melted in my mouth and the caramel was perfectly salty. We watched people come and go as we finished a bottle of wine over our casual conversation and light laughs. Then we went out to hear some jazz under the street lights and laughed with other people about the joys and mundane of being old married folks. We walked on and mellowed into each other as the breeze cooled. We came home contented and melted into sheets.

We woke to perfect weather and a day to do nothing. I got in the hammock and let the leaves fall around my head. A princess came by, hung her crown on a hook, and curled up beside me. We named cloud animals for a bit until she quieted into my arms. We rested that way for over an hour. Not sleeping, just staring at the sky. I don't know when she's ever been so still. The breeze called for it and she felt it. We got our lunch plates and some books, and we went right back to the hammock. We stayed there until time didn't exist and the world felt as if it were only this place with her. She finally jumped up to run off with her friends, leaving her crown fluttering ever so slightly in the wind. The spell was broken but the feeling of it remained.

Fall is coming. I sense the quieting of my soul.

Weekends Are For...

...closing down the main street through a small downtown to enjoy a parade and a festival. For snow cones and corn dogs and face painted cheeks. For happy children screams and booths of handmade treats. For walking back home contentedly exhausted with treasures and treats and fresh squeezed lemonade.

And weekends are for being able to go back and do it all again the next day.

Wishing you all a "Peace" filled Labor Day weekend!

Kindergarten Exhaustion

This is what kindergarten can do to you:


We've been in school for a week now and I think we're all finally getting used to the new schedule. Well, most of us anyways. The little one has been exhausted! The last two days have brought a few meltdowns before and after school. It's tough being a kindergartner. There's so much to learn. You're not just learning your ABCs and 123s. You're also learning how to do school. Even kids who came to the elementary school setting from the preschool setting are learning how school works. They've never been to P.E. They've never been so responsible for their own things. They've never gotten their own lunch in a cafeteria.

And speaking of that last one, I decided to volunteer to help the kindergartners learn their way around the cafeteria this week. I had no idea what I was getting myself into. When I arrived the lead mom told the rest of us, "They're like ping-pong balls. They hit a surface and bounce the other way." She was right.

First we sent the ones who brought lunches through the line. They would walk in with curious eyes taking in their surroundings and end up walking right into the person in front of them or a table or a wall which would lead to a fight or a little cry or perhaps a few stubbed toes. Then the ones buying lunch would get a tray and turn around to get another one because of some completely illogical reason that the first one wasn't good enough. Or halfway through the line they would decide they didn't want a fork and turn around to get a spoon bumping into everyone behind them along the way. Then all of the kids who got bumped would think they were supposed to turn around as well. So they would and the whole lot would try to exit where they entered inevitably dropping trays full of food. Or they would stand in front of the food just staring at the options, decide not to get anything at all, and try to grump out of the door. So we'd redirect them and try to convince them to get something to eat which they would begrudgingly do. Then they have to learn to pay for their food which most of them forgot to do and became mini-thieves. Somewhere in between going back to pay for their stolen food and trying to find their table, they would get separated from their class, and the stress of the whole lunchtime event would cause a few of them to forget their own name. Remembering their teacher's name wasn't even an option. They would burst into tears and have to be walked around until one of the teachers claimed them. While we're getting them food and seating them, the teachers are opening containers, bananas, and juice boxes one handed while quickly eating with the other hand. As soon as the last table of kindergartners is seated you have about five minutes to catch your breath before the first table is ready to leave. Then begins the trash and tray dumping which missed the trashcan completely 9 out of 10 times. By the time all of them had left the cafeteria all of us were sweating and about to collapse.

Kindergarten teachers I applaud you. Wow! You must be exhausted for weeks after school starts. Although, I have to say, you get to work with some of the cutest incompetent people in the world.

As for my own little sprite, she's learning the ropes fast and loving it. She comes home very excited to tell me about her day. She's making new friends and learning new things and eating cookies. A lot of cookies. Apparently that's how her teacher is getting two minutes of quiet during these first few days. Whatever works is fine with me. I now know that her teacher has earned a few minutes of quiet time. Sanity is worth a few extra cookies.