Posts Tagged ‘Sage’
Saturday, September 10th, 2011
I am confident Sage can eat her birthday cupcakes without front teeth.
She has lost six, four on the bottom and two on top, one for each year (let’s not discuss how many hairs I’ve pulled out in that span).
This picture was taken Wednesday, before her first day of kindergarten. I know I will look back on it next year and think how little she looks, but at the moment, she looks so damn big.
We walked to her classroom – she has the same teacher Sawyer had – and when the teacher opened the door, Sage, being Sage, walked right in and sat on the circle time carpet.
Without saying goodbye to me.
She was ready. So very, very ready.
What will this year bring? What will she remember?
My kindergarten memories consist of one thing: When our teacher was going to give us ice cream, I said “goody gumdrops” and some smart-ass kid said, “It’s NOT gumdrops.”
I’m hoping Sage has a greater takeaway.
I’d like to see her edges soften, to think before she reacts in anger.
I want her to celebrate her intelligence.
I want to hear her giggles and listen to her sing along with Big Time Rush when she doesn’t think I’m watching.
I want her to feel loved.
Because she is.
Happy birthday, my sweet Lou. You are my fire and my heart.
Tuesday, July 26th, 2011
I am now the mother of kids who swim in the deep end.
There is no more perching on the chair by the stairs, no more having to get into the pool to act as a human floaty.
When it’s just my eldest two, that is.
Sage, upon completing swim lessons with the Swim Nazi, is now allowed to go anywhere she wants. Including where it’s eight-feet deep.
Sawyer has been water safe since he was younger than Sage is now. And just this week, he finally has a partner.
She dives. She jumps. She touches her foot on the bottom. She swims from the deep end to the shallow end and back.
She is confident.
She no longer flails around or calls for me in a panic.
It’s amazing to watch her realize her own power. Truly amazing.
It’s like when your child wakes up in the morning and you’re certain he or she has grown an inch overnight. Only I get to watch this growth unfold right in front of me as I watch.
Right in front of me, she is discovering how strong she really is, how fun it is to enjoy the water and not fight it.
I see her dive in. I keep my eye on the aqua water, still a little anxious, until I see the tips of her fingers grasp the concrete edge. And up pops her face, covered with her hair. She brushes it away and she looks at me and smiles. She waves before once again disappearing beneath the surface.
I am thankful for this summer of Sage. I am thankful for lessons learned.
This post was inspired by the prompt “End a story with the words ‘lesson learned’ ” for The Red Dress Club.
Thursday, June 9th, 2011
I am vigilant, watching for evidence, waiting for confirmation.
I listen to her stories and wonder how much of it as actually the truth.
I’m worried my daughter is a Queen Bee in the making.
I had a conversation with a mom of one of Sage’s classmates this morning. And during our talk, she revealed her daughter has cried because of my daughter: Sage tells her she can’t play with her, tells other kids if they play with this girl then Sage won’t play with them, that this girl can’t be in her “club.”
It is easy to explain it away by saying they’re girls, it’s the age, they’re only 5 1/2, everyone has to learn to get along. Some of that is true. But I can’t let that be an excuse not to speak to my child about how we treat other people.
This isn’t the first time I’ve had concerns. She came home a month ago and announced that she told her BFF that she needed a “break” from her and would play with her again the following week. I’ve seen her be unkind to a girl on a playdate in our home.
I’ve also seen her be wonderful. Many, many times. But Sage is a beautiful, smart girl, and every teacher she’s had so far has said she’s definitely a leader.
I wonder what kind of leader she’ll be.
All I want her to do is be kind.
I pulled her aside when she was at recess, which is soon after I drop her off at her classroom. Her honey eyes widened and then filled with tears when she realized she’d been caught, that I knew about her behavior, that it was not acceptable. I then walked away and peered down at the playground from the sidewalk, where I saw her getting a hug from her teacher.
I forced my heart to harden.
And then I second-guessed my handling of it for the next three hours, until she came home from school. Because we’re never exactly sure we’ve done the right thing, are we? I’m looking years down the road, but maybe I’m wrong. It’s not like parenting will get easier when she’s a teenager, that I DO know.
I carried her up to her room – because I still can – and sat down with her on her bed.
“You’re a very smart girl,” I told her. “And you’re fun and funny and a lot of girls are going to want to be your friend.”
At this point she was done listening and wanted to be silly, rolling around on her comforter, but I persevered: “Think about how sad you would feel if someone told you they didn’t want to play with you. I know you can be nice. I know you can be a good friend to everyone.”
She bounced up and wanted me to help pick out clothes to wear to an event we were going to later.
We actually agreed on jeans and a striped pink shirt and she happily skipped down the stairs for lunch.
I sat on her bed for another moment in the quiet, holding the worn stuffed bear she still sleeps with. I put it gently on her pillow before heading down to the kitchen.
Wednesday, October 6th, 2010
Honestly, Blogowebz, I don’t know what to do with this child.
I love her. I do.
Sometimes, she makes it really, really difficult.
It’s the back-talk. The bad attitude.
She is Sassy McSassypants.
She told me a couple weeks ago she did not like school. Why? Because they have RULES!
So you can imagine how she feels about living HERE. What with all our pesky rules about changing your underwear every day and brushing your teeth and not pinching your brother and, you know, listening to your parents.
The other night I sent her to her room at 6:30 and told her she could come out – when she woke up the next morning.
There was lots of screaming and crying and carrying on. But she was awfully cute today when I came back from my run and found her snuggled in our bed.
“Can I come out now, Mommy?” she said.
The worst part, the absolute most awful truth, is that I know I’m failing as a parent. I mean, she’s a bright, funny, beautiful little girl – who is angry a lot.
And I don’t know how to make her kinder. More gentle.
I am sad. But I’m also determined.
Is there anything we try harder at than being a good parent?
Because there is nothing in this world more difficult.
Sports are supposed to be a good outlet for all the “energy,” right? So here’s the latest highlight from Sage. Unfortunately we don’t have on film the part where she pouted and yelled at us because we clapped when the other team scored.
One of her five goals Saturday.
Friday, September 10th, 2010
This is my second child turning five and again, it’s tough for me. I think it’s because it’s truly The End of the baby phase. I mean, really The End.
I told Sage yesterday I was not going to allow her to turn five today. In true Sage fashion, she said “Too bad.” (more…)