hello december

Owen’s class pictures came back yesterday. We had to pay for the photos ahead of time, I guess because no one in their right mind would buy them once we finally got to see what the pictures are like. I love my dear little boy and think he looks wonderful no matter what, but all the children have the same, slightly terrified, fake smile. Clearly whoever got stuck with the gig of class photographer for D— school is no fledgling Annie Leibovitz, who knows, maybe they’re more influenced by Diane Arbus. Along with his pictures came a note that some child in his class has lice so now I have to examine his head with a magnifying glass in bright light (which, since we’ve bought fluorescents, doesn’t seem to exist in our house) to search for possible sesame seed sized eggs. Just reading the list of what you have to do if your child does in fact have lice – all clothes in hot water wash followed hot dryer cycle (goodbye wool sweater, hello felt!); vacuum carpet, mattresses and furniture thoroughly; boil combs and other hair accessories for two minutes or use 1 part bleach to 10 parts water solution; anything that can’t be cleaned by the above methods must be sealed off in plastic bags for 30 days… my God, my scalp itches fiercely just at the thought of this.
Lately Owen keeps saying how he is a mean and stupid boy, ‘the stupidest boy in the whole World.’ Toby and I both insist he is nothing of the sort. He’s our son so we’re admittedly biased, but Owen is a wonderfully kind and gentle boy. He’s very thoughtful, and quite bright for his age, which can be problematic because Toby and I then tend to talk to him and expect things of him that aren’t realistic for a four year old. Well, last night Toby learned just where Owen was getting this ‘I’m the stupidest boy in the whole World’ complex. One of the girls he likes to play with, Q-, told him that he’s the stupidest boy in the whole classroom. Just hearing that made me bristle, I wanted to throttle this 4 year old – I know that isn’t very mature on my part but it kills me to see my children hurt or slighted in any way, typical Mother Bear behavior. Toby and I both talked to Owen and made sure he realized that he is in fact a very smart boy and to not listen to people when they say things that hurt his feelings. Toby told him to ask Q— if she can read, because Owen can. I told him to say that’s not true (when they say nasty things) and to tell the person that what they’re saying is mean.
When Owen first started pre-k I was over the moon. He goes full time, 6 hours every day, and after a long summer of not always successful bartering with a 4 year old over our daily activities I wanted to shout from our rooftop (which I would never do because it’s a mansard roof and has a very steep pitch) ‘I’m free!!’ I knew Owen craved that learning experience and interaction with his peers so I figured this new step in our lives was best for both of us. But he’s growing up, and seeing those changes, how the outside world and other people affect him, make me want to hold him close to keep all the grit of reality away from him. I realize that I’m waaay too protective with both my kids. If I had my way I’d hold Owen’s hand across the street and walk him to school until he’s in college. I see these other mothers, less anxiety prone, who let their children run down the sidewalks fifty feet away from them, who don’t have a compulsion to do a sweep of a room on entry to make sure there are no choking hazards that their toddler could get pudgy little hands on. I am so envious on one hand and so horribly judgmental on the other. Ambivalence is a feeling that I think, at times, is almost instinctual for me – no wonder I’m always so tired. I trust my children but I don’t trust our World. Especially now. Our country is so fast and easily distracted, technologically driven and culturally vapid. My soul aches for a kinder, gentler, more mindful time but what’s the answer?
Didn’t mean to leave this post on a downer, maybe the schizophrenic weather here is affecting me.