Neko is officially hiding from the camera. She got this new haircut over a week ago (which actually allows her to actually see) but it's taken me this long to snap a single photo of her.
So when she's 30 and she wonders what she looked like at five, she's going to have to push up her sleeves and Photoshop those ropes out of her face.
Today got off to a rocky start. We had planned to go to IKEA and pick up a few pressing items, but Neko collapsed into a heap of tears and tantrums at the very mention. We thought she might just have low blood sugar, having been up for two hours with no breakfast (a recurring problem), so we made a last-ditch effort at the coffee shop with muffins.
Even after some breakfast, she still insisted she just wanted to stay home. And when we had a chance to think about it, we realized we should honor her request. It's been a long week for her, and although we've always been busy, she's used to spending much more of her day around the house. So I packed Ellery and Shep up for IKEA and Tom stayed home with Neko.
It was the best thing we could have done.
When I returned home, I was greeted with the conversion of the playgym into a full-blown pirate ship. They had crafted a pirate costume, periscope, anchor, television (which, clearly every pirate ship should have), beds for she and Shep, and a fully-functional pirate flag which went up and down. Even Captain Feathersword was taped to the side of the ship to take part.
Although Tom had a big hand in construction, he insists that most of the ideas were Neko's, and the two of them couldn't have been more delighted at the results.
Okay, so the kids did great with the first day of school.
I was doing really well, too. Got coffee, went for a long walk with Ellery. Laughed, chatted, and relaxed a bit. Then I arrived home at noon with Shep and Ellery for lunch. I rounded the corner from the mudroom and found myself staring at these two stools at the counter. And I burst into tears.
These are the two stools where Neko and Shep have eaten lunch, side by side, for nearly two years. Sitting next to one another they laughed and bickered and ate and sang. And suddenly, as I rounded that corner, I realized, on most days, there would be an empty seat at the counter.
I know everyone is where they need to be. Neko needs more than just I can give her right now. She needs friends outside our home and bigger experiences. Shep needs a chance to be the big kid, to direct the play and hone his independence. Ellery needs a chance to not get lost in the shuffle. And me? I need to begin to reclaim some of my own self, which has been tucked in the box of mommyhood for quite some time.
These are good changes, but difficult, and somewhat heartbreaking nonetheless.
How did it get to be August 26th? I swear, this summer just flew right by.
But here we are on the first day of school. It's probably best that we've been so busy, as it's given me little time to get all sloppy and sentimental, which I'm prone to do. But ready or not, off we went.
Neko was first, so we walked in together to her class. Her teacher has been outstanding this summer, writing letters and arranging play days, so it's not like she was being dropped into a new environment. Still, I was a little worried her last-minute jitters might turn into a full-blown attack of anxiety. But they didn't. She put away her lunch box and backpack and settled right into her groove. We got a hug and a kiss, and she was on her way.
Shep practically leapt out of the car when we arrived at his school. Seriously, we unbuckled him and he began a sprint to the door like I haven't seen before. We had to call him back to capture a few photos.
At the end of the day, everyone was tired and happy and eager to return, which I happily declare a successful day.
Some time ago, Neko and Shep couldn't sit on the couch without five feet between them. Any less space, and they got too wiggly and in one another's personal space. The inevitable tears and arguing followed.
But today I looked over and caught them snuggled up next to one another, practically TOUCHING, and this peaceful moment lasted for what seemed like eternity.
From the time she started moving, we had an inkling that Neko was a little different than the other kids. When other kids pooped out, she had an endless reserve of energy. While other kids played with focus, she bounded from one thing to another. While other kids sat quietly at story hour, Neko ran in circles and pulled books off shelves. Her temper was quick and her will unbreakable.
While I was proud of all the things about her that were so wonderful, I was a little worried, too. The constant mention of ADD/ADHD in the parenting world began to enter my head, and I wondered if that was what we were dealing with. I decided, at the time, that I wouldn't go down the medical path. I wasn't quite ready to get tangled up in world of therapy and decisions about medication. It just didn't seem the right answer at that time.
So we plugged along. When my friend Bena encouraged me to join her baby tumbling class, I thought it sounded interesting. A way to work out her endless energy? Terrific! A class with rules and structure? Not our strong suit. But when Bena assured me the instructor was fabulous, and would understand Neko's challenges, I conceded.
And so we met Semia.
I should have known from the moment we met, she was going to be one of those people we would still send Christmas cards to when we're 84. I remember her saying, "So THIS is Neko!" She told us her sister was named Niko, and she had rarely met another, so this must be something special.
I'm sure Semia sees all kinds of kids in her line of work. Compliant, exuberant, shy, angry, aggressive…I doubt there's much she hasn't dealt with. But it never seems to faze her. She exudes good energy. Just being in her presence is calming, and she seems to know exactly what each child needs.
So she took on Project Neko. She assured me it was okay that Neko would rather run laps around the gym than participate in circle time. She never got frustrated with my often disruptive child. She would repeat instructions when they were ignored and forgotten, always in a kind, patient voice. For four years, I have bent our schedule around making sure Neko was in Semia's class each week because of the changes I saw taking place.
Because she will be starting kindergarten, today was Neko's last Tumblebees class. I thought briefly of trying to figure out a way to get her there after school or on weekends, but it seems like one too many things in our already tight schedule. The commute makes it extra challenging. And when I realized this was it, I burst into tears. Which confused me, because, really, isn't it just a tumbling class?
But it wasn't just a class. I realize that this has been our therapy. Perhaps we did not go down the conventional medical road, but we found a environment and a teacher who was willing to push up her sleeves and take on our challenge. With patience, kindness, and the space of four years, she has been instrumental in helping Neko gain the skills which are allowing her to sail through life today. Each week, Semia has helped her learn to sit still, listen to instructions, follow directions, and take turns. Simple tasks for some children, but monumental for Neko. Somewhere in between there were somersaults and swinging from the bars, but mostly, she learned how to thrive in an environment that demands some structure.
In a few weeks Neko will begin kindergarten. She will go to class. She will pay attention and follow the rules. She will know when to be compliant and when to let herself think bigger and create a new path. She will be fine. She will better than fine—she will flourish.
On this very last day of her little legs running around that great big gym, I know she would never be who she is today without Semia. There aren't enough words to say a big enough thank you. But, THANK YOU.
It's kind of one big Backyard Bug Adventure around here. Every day it's kind of a mystery about what will be in the bug cage by the end of the day.
Today we hit the jackpot…a caterpillar. A fuzzy, adorable caterpillar. (Who poops green, if you'd like to know.) Neko is determined to see it through to a butterfly, so with some help from What's That Bug, we determined that we have a Wooly Bear caterpillar on our hands. It eats milkweed and will turn into a Tiger Moth if we can keep it alive. So we've decked out to bug cage in sticks and dirt and delicious leaves.
Cross your fingers.
I don’t think any of us like taking our kids to the doctor, particularly when it involves vaccinations. But when they were little, they had no idea what was coming. One minute they’re showing the doctor they know how to say “bababa” and then the next someone is sticking a sharp needle in their thigh.
But Neko is five now. She has caught on to this routine and is not impressed. We haven’t had shots in a while, so she’s been warming up to the doctor’s office a little bit, you know, so it’s not a tantrum the ENTIRE time we’re there.
Today she had to go to the doctor. Not just for a cold or cough, but for the dreaded 5-year-old appointment which involves FOUR shots. Yes, I said four. My friend Akiko just took her son to this same appointment, so I knew exactly what I was in for. I debated the sneak attack, feigning ignorance with a “Shots? I had no idea you were going to have to get shots!” But I think we’re past that. It was time for honesty.
So we hatched a plan.
In the picture above you see our good friend MO from the WALL-E movie. When I made the original WALL-E purchase, I scooped up this MO and stashed him. This morning Tom wrapped him up and tied it with a bow.
Shortly before the appointment, I broke it to Neko we were going. Requisite screaming and protesting ensued. And then? I revealed…THE PRESENT. I declared it could be opened after we had signed in at the doctor’s office. Suddenly tears turned to smiles, her shoes were on, and she was happily buckling the present into Ellery’s car seat.
On the way there we discussed what would happen—weighing, measuring, heart check, ears, eyes. And then I broke it to her about the shots. But then? Secret weapon number two! WALL-E band aids! There was still fear in her eyes, but it was mixed with gleeful anticipation, and suddenly she said, “Okay. I understand.”
I’m not going to lie to you, when we finally got to the shots and the first needle went in, I had to hold her down for the other three. But up until then? Perfect. Cooperative. Downright charming.
Vaccinations with MO? Mo’ better.
I have great memories of summer nights when I was little. Okay, most of the memories are of lying in my bed thinking, “It is totally light outside and I’m supposed to fall asleep? This makes no sense.” Which I’m sure my children think often.
But the other memories are of being able to stay up way past my bedtime and run around the yard in the warm summer night, catching fireflies and feeling like I was a part of some secret, magical place.
We’ve been letting Neko stay up a bit later lately, later than the other kids. She helps us around the yard or spends time exploring. Tonight she and I sat on the back porch and watched the bats fly out of the woods and swoop around, looking for lunch. She ran around with her bug cage, and tried to catch as many fireflies as she could before we reeled her back inside.
I know this can’t happen every night. The inevitable grouchies set in the next day, since she still boings out of bed at an ungodly hour. But every now and then? Those are memories she’ll have forever.
From the moment we starting watching the trailers for WALL-E on Apple’s site, I knew he would come to live with us one day. And then when the kids started watching the trailers for WALL-E? We were sunk.
On a random trip through the store with Tom, Neko spied the WALL-E toy display, and almost went catatonic. Of course, she took Shep along for the ride, so they both came home clamoring for WALL-E toys.
We decided this should be an allowance purchase. Now, I will admit, we’re pretty lazy when it comes to allowance. We’ve really only done it for Neko so far, and when she’s not actively saving for something, we kind of forget about it. So she probably hasn’t had an allowance for several months. Which, in case you guys are reading this years from now, NO, it is not retroactive and it does not accrue interest.
Anyway, we gave them a little credit on the allowance account and decided they needed to save for three more weeks to buy their robots. When we realized Tom would be out of town for The Big Day, we almost moved it so he could see the grand reveal. But then we realized these little guys might make my whole weekend a heckuva lot easier, so Tom agreed he would join in on iChat from Chicago later that morning.
Last night the kids could barely go to sleep. You would have thought Santa was due in a few hours. They were wiggly and squirmy and could barely stay under their covers. By morning, they burst out of their rooms, and went charging into the kitchen to find their new friends.
I declare them a smashing success. Neko chose the transforming WALL-E, which compacts down to a cube, but with no electronic components. Shep chose the one that talks and lights up, but with no folding features. I was a little worried Neko would have buyer’s remorse when she saw Shep’s talk, but it seems to be a perfect fit for everyone. Plus, Shep’s is loud enough for two toys, I’m thinking.
My only complaint is the door on Neko’s that opens to reveal a sticker of trash is a complete piece of crap. By the end of the day it wouldn’t stay shut. So when Tom returns home, I’m going to put him to work on a little toy surgery—finding a mechanism to secure Neko’s door and smuggling some blue tape over the interior of Shep’s speaker. Then all will be good in the land of Buy-n-Large.
Which, by the way, have you been to buynlarge.com? I now have something up my sleeve to get me through the rest of the time Tom is out of town…