School daze

We're still trying to figure out how things work with the new school schedule here at Chez Snarky. But one thing is for sure, Jack loves his new school. Can't wait to get there in the morning and comes out with a huge smile on his face in the afternoon.

He sits next to a little boy named Josh at lunch, loves to play on the playground at recess and has a lot to say about the drama class he has on Thursdays. How cute is that -- drama for 3-year-olds?

We had a lot of real-life drama around the house during the last week, however, because Jack's sleep went in the shitter. He stopped taking naps and started getting up at 5:30 a.m. every day. That meant he was only getting about 10 hours of sleep per day and it just wasn't enough.

Oh the tantrums and the general weepiness and aggression made the four hours I got to spend with him after school extra-special. I even tried making him take a nap on Friday when he got home. Oh foolish Mommy. As if.

This weekend culminated in a sleep-deprived heap of crying at soccer. At 9 a.m. He just couldn't deal with the other kids trying to kick the ball at the same time he was trying to kick the ball and he ran off the field crying. You would think his utter exhaustion would have resulted in a nap that day. You would be wrong.

Throw in a cold-cough-runny nose that he picked up compliments of school, and you have a recipe for disaster. He clearly needed more sleep than he was getting. And it wasn't happening.

I couldn't take it anymore by Sunday night and decided to hell with it -- he was going to bed earlier than ever before. We gave him his shower at 6 p.m. and he was in bed at 6:25 p.m. I never heard a peep out of him. He woke up at 3:30 to go to the bathroom, went right back to sleep and managed to sleep until 6:20 a.m.

Building on that success, I planned to have him in bed at 6:30 again tonight. But he pretty much lost his mind during dinner. He refused to hold his cup with his hands, spilled it everywhere trying to hold it with his mouth only, was told if he didn't hold his cup with his hands, he would have to go straight to bed and because he's 3.5 years old, guess what he elected to do? You got it -- he tried to do it without hands again and we sent him away from the table. You would think he hadn't finished three-quarters of his dinner already, the way he carried on.

We told him if he couldn't stop throwing a tantrum, he would have to go straight upstairs. That's when he started sobbing, "I am so tired. I am tired. I need to go to sleep."

Poor kid. So I took him upstairs and tried to settle him down. There was a lot of crying and after finally getting him into bed, I didn't hear a peep out of him after 6:45 p.m. I felt awful for him because I know how it feels to be that tired, but at least I can recognize it. I don't think he's capable of that yet, which makes it so hard to figure out what's going on in his head.

So for the next few days, I am going to keep attempting the 6:30 bedtime and see where it gets us. Poor Emmie is totally confused by the whole thing and starts screaming and crying when Jack goes upstairs to take a bath without her. She then spends the whole time she has us to herself pointing to the stairs and saying, "Ja? Jaaaa?"

I really hope we settle into a new routine soon.

First day of school

I have been talking nonstop about Jack's first day of all-day preschool for the last two years now. I go on and on to anyone who will listen how awesome our neighborhood school is and how it's FREE! MONTESSORI!

Except then the day came to send him off to all-day preschool with his backpack and his lunch and his blanket for naptime and I was suddenly unsure. What the hell kind of parent sends her 3-year-old off for a whole day with two women she met for 15 minutes two weeks ago? He needs me! What was I thinking?



And then we were there, and he was putting his backpack in his very own locker. Yes, my 3-year-old has a LOCKER. And carrying his lunchbox into the classroom and getting settled in.



At least they'll remember his name. And he's the only Jack in his class (shocking, considering every third kid in this neighborhood is named Jack) so that's good. Somehow the nametag made me feel a little relieved. They would at least know what name to call him in timeout if he started hitting the other kids.

Then he gave us a kiss and a hug, and was off to the other side of the classroom to explore. This Montessori thing had to be created with Jack in mind. Tons of interesting little toys, each with a place and everything in its place. He walked around with a HUGE grin on his face and was genuinely delighted to be there. I breathed a sigh of relief -- this was the best decision for him. I believe he will flourish in this system.



And that was our last view of him. His teacher asked him if he would like to sit down on the rug and read books, and he did. Just like that. Sat right down and got to work. We said our goodbyes and he waved dismissively. I guess he didn't have any reservations about staying.

On the way home, pushing an empty stroller, Josh asked me if I was sad. I told him I wasn't sad that he was going to school, just sad that he's not a little boy anymore. He's so grown up and doesn't need me as much.

I arrived at pick-up about 10 minutes early, along with several other moms I know, anxious to see them come out of the building. I felt like someone waiting for their long-lost love outside airport security. I craned my neck, kept checking the time. When the door opened and I saw a different teacher with a different class, my heart lurched.

But then there he was -- second in line out of the door and looking all around for me. I waved and got his attention and I thought my heart would burst waiting the 45 seconds it took for him to reach the spot where I could take possession of him on the playground. I'm not sure who was more excited to see who, or gave who the bigger hug, but it was definitely one of the best mothering moments I've had.

We walked home, him with his snack in the stroller and me chattering away with a million questions about his day. I couldn't tell you the route we took home or the amount of time it took. But I remember everything about our conversation. Someday I'll be lucky to get more than a grunt out of him after school, but for today, when he was 3-and-a-half, he was an eager participant in the discussion. And for once, I just lived in the moment and took it all in.

Psuedo only child

Much like Shark Week on the Discovery Channel, this is Mommy and Jack Week in the Snarky family. We're spending some quality time together before he starts school next week and Emmie is having quality time with Grandma and Grandpa in Wisconsin before she starts All-Mommy, All-The-Time 14 Weeks next week. That will be followed by New Baby Invasion Weeks in December. I am sure she'll love it.

When I first found out our neighborhood school offered a full-day, five-day-per-week Montessori program, I hesitated for about 2.5 nanoseconds. Full-day school? For free? Where do I sign?

But now as it's getting closer, I am starting to have some pangs about sending my little boy off with strangers for six hours every day. I mean he's going to play outside on a playground without my direct supervision to make sure he doesn't fall off the monkey bars and break his arm. He's going to eat lunch without my direct supervision to make sure he eats his spinach before he gets his dessert. He's going to have to wipe himself after he goes to the bathroom. The pressure, I tell you.

Not to mention the fact he will be in a class of 26 kids with only two teachers. That's 13 kids per adult! I can't even hang out with 13 people at once and keep track of what everyone is doing. How can they possibly watch 13 young children without losing one? These kids are shifty, they can sneak away in a second. Or something. Something terrible.

But next Monday, we'll send him off to school and I'll probably spend the days wishing he was here torturing Emmie and running away from me. I had doubts about Emmie's ability to exist without her brother stealing all the attention. She's always had someone else to play with. Now she's probably going to make me be her playmate. But when he was off at camp several mornings per week this summer, she relished the time alone and enjoyed playing with the train table with no one screaming, "NO EMMIE I AM PLAYING RIGHT NOW," grabbing the trains out of her hot little hands and throwing her to the ground. So I think she'll be just fine.

To celebrate his last week at home, we've been doing fun stuff. Monday we went to the playground and the water park and out for pizza. Tuesday we took the El downtown, went to the Planetarium, had lunch and dinner out and played at the park some more. Today we hit the farmer's market and the park and had pizza for dinner again, followed by ice cream cones. Tomorrow, we have the Children's Museum on the agenda as well as a reunion with his sister.

I know he'll never remember this week in the grand scheme of things, but I hope he's had fun having me all to himself and doing fun things that he loves. I've had a lot of fun with him. I found myself getting teary tonight as he licked his cone at Dairy Queen and smiled at me with ice cream all over his face. That sweet little face will be the one greeting me every day at 2:45 p.m. and I am so looking forward to that part of school -- the part where he runs to me and hugs me with that mega-watt smile on his face and we talk all about his day on the way home. Makes the six-hour separation more than worth it.

School's out for the summer

Way back in September, when I took my baby to preschool for the first time, I remember thinking that the end of the year was so far off. Today, he graduated from his first year of preschool. But I am not sure how that is possible as I just brought him home from the hospital and dressed him in frog hats.

School was such a great experience for him and I think he's sad it's over. He adored his teachers, Miss Liz (MissWiz, always pronounced as one word) and Miss Melissa (Miss Wissa) and all of his friends. He loved getting out of the car each morning and lining up with all the kids. He enjoyed running around in gym class. And he really liked snack time.

As the year went on, he matured and learned how to sit in the circle. I remember lamenting that he would never participate in circle time and freaking out that he always wanted to do his own thing. And you know what, like almost all of the commenters said he would, he eventually started getting it. People on the Internets are really smart!

Like all 3-year-olds, he had his moments. Like when he went through a phase of screaming at the top of lungs. And dumping whole bins of toys out. And pushing his friends. But like all phases, they passed. And the sweet little boy I know and love outweighed the evil, smirky little boy who sometimes made appearances.

School gave him a chance to be his own person, outside of me. And gave me a chance to spend some one-on-one time with Emmie so she could figure out who she was, minus her constant companion. And it allowed me to miss him twice each week and experience the sweet joy that is seeing his face light up as he comes out of the classroom and throws himself into my arms after school. Never once in the nine months he was there did I fail to return that smile and hug -- it was truly the best part of my day.

Each Tuesday and Thursday, he would jump out of the car, grab his backpack and his lunchbox, kiss me goodbye and leave with a huge smile on his face. Never once did he say he didn't want to go, never once did he cry or want to leave early. I hope his love of school continues for years to come. He's already talking about his "new school" next year and how he's very excited about it.

Now we'll be back to trying not to kill each other every day for the next month. He will go to a little day camp three days a week for three hours starting at the end of June. Again, I think he'll love it and excel. What's not love about running around, getting wet and drinking from the water fountain?

First preschool lunch

Today was Jack's first day of four-hour preschool. He had been going two hours, two days a week, but his school offers what's called "enrichment" for the second semester. That means he spends another two hours at school doing another class (science on Tuesdays and cooking on Thursdays) and eats lunch there, and I spend a leisurely morning at home eating bonbons and reading celebrity gossip.

I kid, I kid. I actually spent the extra two hours playing with Emmie, cleaning the kitchen and taking a shower. It was nice not to have to rush around like a crazy person trying to get stuff done, get Emmie down for a nap and shower all in 90 minutes.

Last night I packed up Jack's first school lunch in his new Laptop Lunchbox (no BPA or plastic bad stuff and it's super-cute) with great excitement. OK, not great excitement, but lukewarm enthusiasm. You see, his school requires nut-free, vegetarian lunches. So I couldn't pack his standby much-loved almond butter sandwich. Nor a turkey sandwich. Instead, he got a cold cheese sandwich. Doesn't that sound ... appetizing?

In addition, I threw in some carrots and some blueberries, a squeezable yogurt tube and some milk. All things he eats for lunch at home. All things he likes. I even put in a little note for him telling him to have a good lunch with love from Mommy, Daddy and Emmie.

When I unpacked the lunchbox at home after school, it contained empty spots where the cheese sandwich and milk had been. The carrots, blueberries and yogurt were still nestled into their original spots. Allrighty then.

Next up for Thursday: hummus and pita. This ought to go over real well.

Busy day

Emmie and her double ear infection slept until 8:15 a.m. this morning. She did wake once at 6 a.m. and then we threw her in the swing and got two more hours out of her. So that was awesome.

Not so awesome was the fact she ran a fever off and on today. So apparently the three doses of antibiotics have yet to kick in. And I took her for the Thansgiving celebration at Jack's preschool this morning. In my defense, I had no other option and I didn't let her touch anyone else. And it's an ear infection, for God's sake. It's not like it's leaping from her ear to someone else's.

But oh my, what cuteness the Thanksgiving was. There were headbands and snacks and stories and snacks and did I mention the snacks? Because those were Jack's favorite part.



After turkey day at school, I put Emmie down for her nap and headed out with Jack for his flu vaccine. Lucky for Jack, he is old enough for the flu mist so he didn't have to get a shot. He was a trooper and collected his two stickers after allowing the nice nurse to "look in his nose," as Mommy put it.

Then this evening, Josh and I hosted a cocktail party for the parents in Jack's preschool class. We had a great time and it seemed like everyone else did as well. At least they left with a few glasses of wine under their belts, so it had to be somewhat fun.

Tomorrow, we begin our holiday travels hither and yon -- with two kids this year! One of them sick! I can't wait!

My mouth just runs and runs

Tonight I had a little parent meeting at Jack's preschool. Kind of a PTA thing, but on a much smaller scale. There were six parents and two administrators; seven women and one man.

We were talking about gifts for the teachers at holiday time. Somehow the talk turned to what some of the parents (former teachers) had received from their students back in the day.

One mom shared that she had received bottles of wine from several parents, which she joked either meant they really liked her or thought she really needed to relax.

So what do I do? I pipe up with a teacher/student gift story of my own.

One of our good friends was a high-school art teacher at an all-girls high school. She was leaving at the end of the year and was not returning to teach the following school year. Our friend is a very cool girl, so I can see how all her students would think she was cool as well.

On her last day, one of her students gave her a teddy bear and told her to look inside it when she got home. The bear, it contained a bag of pot.

And I told this story. To the director of my son's preschool. Seriously, does my mouth have an on/off switch? (Josh, do not answer that.)

Doing his own thing

Jack has always been a bit of a "free spirit" when it comes to classes (music, art, play). He's always been one to run around when he's supposed to be sitting in the circle or doing an activity all the other kids are doing. In art class, he was pretty good, but I was the one keeping him on task the whole time and making him sit rightnexttome. Not to mention the fact 99 percent of the projects at that class were done by me. I am Picasso with the fingerpaints, let me tell you.

Now, he's doing the same thing in preschool. The three days he has gone, I have looked in at the end of the class and the other kids are on the rug singing a song and my kid is on the other side of the room playing with toys. I asked his teacher about it Tuesday and she said he does not participate, but she doesn't think it's that big of a deal. That day, all the kids made an art project and Jack played with toys. Maybe he has something against construction paper and tissue, but I haven't seen him express a preference for working with clay or paper maiche as his medium, so I have to discount that theory.

His teacher told me their classroom beliefs are such that they would never force a child to do something and that she will try to engage him to take part every few minutes, but if he doesn't want to do it, he won't have to.

Now, I understand this is only his second week of school. BUT. This is a pattern. He acts like this in all his other classes and now there. We even had the same thing happen at his first soccer class last week and it was a disaster because all the other kids listened and followed directions and Jack refused to do any of it. They said run this way and he ran the opposite way. Let me tell you, that's not the way to train for winning a World Cup. Josh left the class with him because it was such a production.

I know he's only 2 1/2. I know I sound like a paranoid helicopter mom. But should I be worried? I don't want to see this become something that he does forever. Being a free spirit is fine, but you have to learn how to play the game when it comes to education or you won't succeed. I know it's just preschool, but I am really thinking this is a part of his personality. Josh thinks it's because he has no fear of us punishing him for not listening, so he doesn't ever have to do what we say. I don't think that's it, but I am stumped.

Of course, the only time he sits as he's supposed to with the other kids? Snack time. He's no fool.

Jack's first day of school

You'd think a child who has never seen the inside of a daycare center or the face of a babysitter other than immediate family members might have been a tad tentative about going to school. What with the leaving of the parents. And the staying there alone. Without mommy or daddy.

If you are talking about my child, you would be wrong. Because he was so excited to be at school today that when we arrived, he dropped our hands, launched himself into a hug with his beloved teacher, Miss Liz, and took off to play with the toys, leaving us in his wake.

We said goodbye and told him we were leaving and we walked out into the hall. We heard most of the other kids crying, one even ran down the hall after her parents. Our kid could not have cared less. No tears from him, nosiree.

We came back two hours later, after a delightful child-free morning at Starbucks (Emmie was with her aunt so we could make this morning all about Jack), and peeked in the window of the classroom door. We saw the kids singing a song on the carpet, while Jack and another boy were on the side playing with trucks.

Afterward, his other teacher, Miss Melissa, told us Jack had a great day exploring the classroom. Translation: your kid can't sit still and participate in circle time. I hope he can get it together by Thursday.

All the other kids ran out to greet their moms and dads, hugging them and smiling. Mine refused to come out of the classroom, and did so only to say hi to one of my Mommy friends. When we told him it was time to go home, he cried and said, "No go Jack's house! Stay!"

Apparently Jack is a fan of preschool. And I couldn't be more proud of him.

They'll need to learn to love me

We had two preschool events this week. First, we took Jack to see his classroom and meet his teacher and hang out with some of his classmates on Monday.

There were three other moms there who I didn't know and then our good friends (Jack's girlfriend is in his class) were also there. They asked where Emmie was and Josh and I simultaneously replied, "We left her in the car."

The other three moms and the teacher may or may not have audibly gasped and looked at us like we had just killed the class rabbit.

"I'm kidding!" I explained. I told them we left her with her aunt. My friend rolled her eyes and whispered, "Clearly, you're not the funny mommy here."

Which, what the hell? That's my thing. I am the funny mommy! I will make them laugh! They will want to hang out and be BFFs!

Last night, we had a parents-only orientation with the same people, plus a few more. I didn't speak, for fear of alienating anyone. In fact, I communicated with hand signals and charades. You should see my acting out of "potty training" -- it's inspired.

Since our children will be spending the next nine months together, I really hope these people find their senses of humor soon. Or it's going to be a long year for me at the drop off and pick up.

Wait, it's not over!

Remember when I posted that Jack was going to grow up stupid because he didn't get into a 2 1/2-year-old preschool program and we were all doomed, DOOMED?

Well fate was smiling upon me because we have him all signed up and ready to go in the fall. I am going to have to light a candle on the menorah in thanks for this one, since he will be attending the Jewish Community Center preschool.

After our fruitless attempts to get him into our two desired, pretty, pretty preschools, I was in a little funk. As was my friend, who is the mommy to Jack's main squeeze. She heard through the grapevine that the JCC had a program and it was reasonable so she checked it out and liked it enough to sign her daughter up. She suggested I take the tour because they had a few spots left.

Last week I showed up for my tour and upon entering the building, the first kid I saw was wearing an Albert Pujols Cardinals jersey. It was a sign -- how often do you see a Cardinals fan mere blocks from Wrigley Field? Not too often, let me tell you.

I thought it was cute. There were little tables and a rug for circle time and cubbies for their little items and coat hooks for their wee coats and one of the first questions out of my mouth was "How many spots do you have for next year?" The director responded I would get the last one and I signed on the dotted line. He'll go two days a week for two hours. It will cost the same amount that my parents paids to send me to private high school. Yes, we are paying for four hours what my parents paid for 40. But this is the city, and frankly, the price is reasonable compared to some of the programs.

For those that don't know us that well, and frankly how can you not know us that well if you read this blog as I talk about my CERVIX every five seconds, Josh was raised Jewish and I was raised Catholic. I think we would both classify ourselves as non-practicing and we definitely are not raising these children with or as a part of any religion. Morals and values, yes. Religion, not so much.

Imagine our surprise to see our son attending a Jewish preschool! And yes, it is definitely a religious curriculum. They told me they base the lessons loosely around the Jewish calendar. So, for instance, right now they are learning about Passover and doing ... well I have no idea other than having a Seder. And at Channukah I bet they make little menorahs. And all the things in the room are labeled in both English and Hebrew.

But you want to know something interesting? They said 40 percent of the families are not Jewish. Who doesn't like diversity and learning something new about different cultures and religions? And as Josh likes to point out, Judaism and Christianity share the Old Testament, so there's that. He's not really down with JC, though I like to point out that JC was a Jew too. He's not impressed.

But we're comfortable with the fact that Jack's going to be 2 years old and he's certainly not going to come home asking for a Bar Mitzvah. If he comes home singing the dreidel song, cool. Talks about lighting the Menorah, spiffy. If he wants to wear a yarmulke, I think I'll be drawing the line on that one.

But no matter. It's preschool for 2 1/2-year-olds. They're going to play and paint and learn to walk in a line and hold hands. If they want him to do it with a Jewish slant, be my guest.

We're so over before we begin

Last month, I toured the preschool we were interested in having our preeeeeshussssss, gifted, funny, empathetic, well-behaved toddler attend next fall. I would have toured two schools, but the day before the original tours my water broke and I wasn't able to hobble on down there the day after I pushed kid No. 2 out, so I had to reschedule and only one school could accomodate me.

Anyway.

So I toured the school, with its wee tables and chairs and its water tables and its toddler-sized toilets and I came home weeping because I had found the perfect place to send my child to school. I wanted to volunteer on every committee. I wanted to bring snacks for everyone. I wanted to gossip with the other moms at dropoff and pickup.

However, (pregnant pause) as at all preschools in our area, there was a lottery to get in. There were 20 total spots and they gave automatic admission to siblings and legacies. They had already filled those spots when I toured, so they knew they only had 10 spots available for the lottery. They alternate boy/girl when they choose, to balance out the classrooms, so that made it harder. Add in that they said they have six applicants for each of the 20 spots (that are now down to 10) and I realized we were going to be shit out of luck.

I told Josh that if he found me lying on the sidewalk outside in a few weeks, it would be because I had thrown myself out the window because my child could not attend this perfect preschool. One of only two in our area that take kids at 2 1/2 and cost less than $8,000 for two hours two days per week. (For those locals wondering, we applied to two Co-ops, both in Lincoln Park. Both have the word "Park" in the name. You can make your assumptions, but I am not naming names.)

Last week, we found out Jack was waitlisted at our second choice. They sent a letter saying he was 13th on the list. They might as well have said "You have no chance in hell of getting in here, but thanks for your $30 'application fee' and we'll see you at the playground suckas." But I could still hold out hope for the Uberpreschool.

I knew this was the week they were announcing the picks. Every time I came home and there was a message on the machine, my heart would leap. I might or might not have picked up the phone a few times, just to check and make sure it was working. (What am in seventh grade, waiting for Chad S. to call? Yes, I am 13 years old.)

Today, my friend called to say they got their letter from the oh-so-coveted pretty pretty preschool. They were waitlisted. I knew then that we didn't get in, so I was at least hoping for a good spot on the list. You know, like No. 1.

I had to wait until I was able to dislodge a nursing baby from the boob to run out to the mailbox. And sure as shit, there was my letter. I ran in the house and ripped it open.

18. He was No. 18.

I fell to the ground in a little puddle, hugging my knees to my chest, chanting, "He's doomed! He's doomed! He'll never get into a good college now." OK maybe I just swore under my breath and then called my friend to give her our results. You can believe whichever you want.

Again, I see them thanking me for the $30 application fee. Perhaps the membership committee was able to use it to buy margaritas while they were running the lottery picks. I certainly hope they got the Cuervo Gold if that's the case.

So now I have NO hope of time to myself next year. Wait, I mean no hope of my child learning creative play and the benefits of sharing and how to paint at an easel. Not that I would have gotten time to myself with the small one at home. But I did have visions of taking her to her very own baby classes and spending some quality one-on-one time with her. Or at least surfing the Internet with only one kid hanging on my leg.

Why yes, he's fluent

Today Josh and I attended a preschool informational fair.

Oh my sweet lord. Our child is not even 2 years old, and there were were, standing in line with our e-tickets and IDENTIFICATION. Yes, you had to show ID to get in. One person per e-ticket. One e-ticket per account member. Do not even think about sneaking in any contraband parents who are not members of the super-secret society of parents that sponsor the fair.

Note of disclosure, I resisted joining this society, because it costs $40 per year and hot damn, I was not paying anyone $40 per year to read message boards and set up play dates. Except then I heard they had a preschool fair every fall and all the cool parents were going and I of course wanted to be like the cool kids, so about five seconds later, they had my AmEx number and I had an e-ticket in my hot little hand.

They told us we had a one-hour slot. There would be more than 1,000 parents attending, they told us via e-mail, so we were to be on time. I am not sure what they planned to do once the clock struck 1 p.m. -- beat us all about the head with pamphlets and herd us out of the fieldhouse? But I was too scared to find out.

So at the appointed noon hour (OK, we were 15 minutes late, but for God's sake, we had to drive all the way north in traffic and it was Saturday and have you SEEN Lincoln Park traffic on the weekends?) we arrived and waited in line to speak with all the nice preschool representatives.

While we were waiting, there was a booth about learning Chinese. Our child, that is, not us. DVDs and books and pictures of multi-ethnic children grinning from ear to ear decorated the booth. I snorted, because, well the notion of teaching Jack Chinese when he refuses to even say two-syllable words in English seemed just ridiculous.

So the woman asks would we like our child to learn Chinese and Josh responds, "No thanks, he mastered that last month. This month we've moved on to Portugese."