|On the left the first day of kindergarten|
On the right the first day of first grade
I didn't realize that Caitlin had gotten so big, until I posted this side by side. I mean really, what happened? She went from this tiny little girl to almost teenager overnight. Well not really. An entire school year, and then an entire summer. First grade is the sign that tells you that you can't turn back. That those baby moments are over. And while she still needs me to help her put on her shoes, or open her bottle of water, she needs me less and less these days. It's the kind of realization that kind of makes you sad, and makes you want to stop time. It's also a great reminder to really enjoy all the moments. Even the ones filled with tears and bad attitudes. Because that's also part of the first grade package.
|The big morning of our first day.|
Sadly she wouldn't stay this excited about school.
So excited for school. Half excited for pictures. The awful part is that she is no longer exited for school. It looks like all day at preschool is way to long for Mac. I have to remind myself that despite her extensive vocabulary, her DIY attitude, and her request to go to school; actually going to school for close to 6 hours is a lot for a 3 year old. I did feel a little guilty on the first day of school when I picked up a close to hysterical Mac. She had been crying on and off since nap time. I mean, I did spend the entire morning doing what I wanted, selfishly and almost defiantly. Yet at the same time I feel like this is one of those, life lessons, those she will get used to it moments. So we are not giving up just yet, but we are switching to half days. Because eventually school will be a have to, and not a want to.
We survived our first week. Fever and all. There were still tears in the mornings, from both girls. Trying to convince a 3 year old that school is fun is never an easy task when her tears bring on your tears. Even the big play ground and the promise of seeing older friends at recess do little to quell Caitlin's silent steady tears. I guess the tears should comfort me and remind me that my girls are still little, but they don't. They make me sad, and a little guilt ridden.
This week was hard. And I didn't want to lie about that. I didn't want to come here and pretend that every morning was glorious. That we were on time and that we ate all our breakfast in a timely and orderly fashion. I didn't want to say, that despite 110 degrees on Monday we were happy go lucky. We weren't. I didn't want to say that I've on top of my game. Because I'm not and the sink has this God awful smell and I'm pretty sure it's my cue to do the dishes.
What I wanted to say is that Back to School happens. That icees at Target after school and before dinner happen. I wanted to say that no shower and 2 day hair, with unshaven legs under a maxi dress, absolutely happen on the 4th day of the new school year. Even though you promised yourself they wouldn't. I wanted to say that fast food dinners don't equal defeat. And that thanking your starts that your kid actually wants to eat "hot lunch", so you don't have to pack a lunch is totally acceptable.
What I wanted to say is that we made it to Friday.
Thank God we made it to Friday.