Callapidder Days

Eight years ago, I went to a Kindergarten orientation meeting. C.(13) was about to enter Kindergarten and I was there to learn all about the program, the curriculum, the teachers. I wanted to be sure that this school was, indeed, the right place for him, and that I knew all the details I would need to get the entire process underway.

As I sat in the school’s library, waiting for the orientation to begin, I noticed another mom that I recognized from our church. In an attempt to be friendly, I introduced myself and asked if this was her first time at the school — if she, like me, was checking things out in anticipation of sending her first child there.

“Oh no,” she replied. Then she went on to tell me that one of her kids had already graduated from the school, and another one was still there, in one of the upper grades. She was at the orientation in anticipation of her third child starting Kindergarten there.

She knew the ropes, knew the school, knew the teachers, knew the curriculum.

Basically, she was there to get the enrollment forms.

***

Last week, I attended another Kindergarten orientation meeting at that same school. This time, it was for L.(5).

And this time, I was the experienced mom. Or, as it seemed to me last week, the old mom.

I know the ropes, know (most of) the teachers, am familiar with the curriculum, know the school.

I was mostly there for enrollment forms…and to see if any big changes had occurred during the previous 7+ years.

Having widely-spaced kids has its own unique set of pros and cons. Mostly, it’s been a great fit for our family.

But I have to admit, things felt weird last week at that meeting. I’d been out of the Kindergarten loop for quite a long time, yet there I was again, at another orientation, starting all over at the school with my second-born.

I watched the young moms and young couples. They were full of questions, making every effort to ensure this school would be perfect for their little ones. They inquired as to the academic rigor of the reading program, the “opportunities for enrichment,” whether or not there would be a naptime.

I didn’t ask a single question. I knew the school was a good school, but I’d also learned that no school is perfect. I knew L. would learn plenty, but that he’d also have fun. Since C. is still at the school — in seventh grade now — I was familiar enough with all the details to just sit back and listen.

Basically, I knew…it would all work out.

But I remember being that first-time mom, the one full of questions, the one working on creating that perfect Kindergarten year for her son.

***

Being the old mom isn’t so bad, I guess. Yes, I’m eight years older (which comes with its own set of pros and cons). But there’s a comfortable familiarity that comes with it. Or maybe it’s just tiredness, masquerading as comfortable familiarity.

It’s hard to believe that almost eight years have passed, though, since I sent C. off to Kindergarten. And even harder to believe that both of my boys will be climbing on that school bus next fall.

Going from new mom to old mom, in retrospect, happened very, very quickly.

About a week ago, I brought home some poster board.  You wouldn’t think this was such a significant event — C.(13) had to put together a quick project on an invertebrate and had asked if I could pick up some poster board sometime when I was out, and I had simply obliged.

But when L.(5) saw the poster board I had brought home for his brother, he was instantly jealous. I attribute his jealousy to two primary underlying facts:

It will not surprise you to know that L immediately asked if I could get him some poster board the next time I was out — and also, if I could make that next time happen very soon.

While my next outing (at least, my next outing that took me to a store that sold poster board) did not happen quickly enough for L.’s liking, it did eventually happen. On Sunday, I came home from the store with a gigantic piece of paper, just for L. Coincidentally, Sunday was the day C. chose to do his project, using the previously-obtained poster board of his own.

I should have been able to predict what happened next.

C. worked diligently — gathering, cutting, and pasting pictures and facts relating to the invertebrate assigned to him (it was a black widow spider, and since I am most definitely not a fan of spiders, this poster cannot head off to school fast enough, in my opinion). And unbeknownst to me, L. began to work on his own “animal poster.” He decided to dedicate his project to Ants. By the end of the afternoon, we had two creepy crawly type posters in our home.

Due to the fact that L. used a pencil to write out his “ant facts,” you most likely can’t read them. Allow me to help.

L. drew several different types of ants and made notes about them all. He has:

If you can make out the pictures, you’ll see that the “ants” L. drew on his poster have many, many legs — far more legs than the scary black widow spiders on C.’s poster. Let me assure you, if I found any ants in our home that size and with that many legs, I would a) call the exterminator, and b) move out.

I learned a few things from the poster board projects:

This is just one example of the cute little copycat who lives in our house. L. looks up to his brother in many ways — always watching, often imitating, deeply loving. And I have the privilege of being the mom who gets to soak it all in.

My older son, C., has been swallowing pills for a while. As a kid plagued with headaches, he had to learn some time ago to take an Advil or an Aleve, if he wanted to get rid of the pounding misery that occasionally attacks him.

But recently, his pediatrician advised him to start taking some multi-vitamins that are, shall we say, sizable.

They’re not the biggest pills I’ve ever seen or taken, but they are substantially larger than your standard fever-reducer or sinus-decongester.

C. was not impressed.

Despite my urgings, he claimed that water and other liquids just wouldn’t do the trick. The big pills were being difficult. So one day, I plopped the vitamin into a yogurt he was about to eat and — voila! — a solution to large pills was born.

Now, I’m fine with him gulping down a pill with a spoonful of yogurt, or even some applesauce. But C. has not been content to stop with these standard mushy food items.

Instead, I regularly find him searching through the refrigerator for the next, latest & greatest, vitamin-swallowing helper.

To date, he has taken his vitamins with:

There might be more. But honestly, I’ve stopped looking. I just give him the big blue pill and trust that, one way or another, it will make its way down.

If you ask me, I think he could probably swallow the things with a swig of milk. After all, chocolate syrup is mostly liquid, so if it goes down with that, it should go down with milk. Or juice. Or water.

But what fun would that be for C.? After all, with his current approach, he gets to play with condiments and drive his mother a little crazy. A little bright spot in every day.

It’s okay though. I love this kid — vitamin-taking quirks and all!