Gracie -- First Grade?

Gracie's Kindergarten teacher just called to say she really thinks our girl needs to skip Kindergarten and move into the First Grade. Gracie is the most advanced student in every area of Kindergarten learning. I'm sure that's just in her class, but as the mommy, I like to think that's of all Kindergarteners everywhere. In fact, Mrs. J said she was so advanced that last week she had Gracie read a chart to the class while she (the teacher) stepped out of the room. I think it's kind of funny to think of Gracie as the Kindergarten teacher, but at the same time, it's a little concerning. I want her to be a student, I want her to be challenged, I want her to be learning. If she's away from home all these hours of the day, I want it to be fruitful. Not just her sitting around somewhere away from me being bored.

When I called James with the news, he was clearly excited. But we need to think. We need to pray. We wonder if there will be emotional reprocussions for Bub to have his sister as his educational equal. But on the other hand, we don't want to deny her an opportunity just so her brother won't feel sad. We would have advanced him last year had we realized that was an opportunity. He was as advanced as she in Kindergarten, and spent the year getting in trouble because he was so bored. He is finally being challenged and loves the First Grade, and his love of school is reflected in his behavior. We don't want Gracie to get bored and hate school because of it or start getting in trouble.

She overheard my conversation to James, and when I discussed it with her a little further, her immediate reaction was tears and not wanting to leave Kindergarten. When I asked her why, she obviously doesn't want to leave Mrs. J, and she wants to learn the rest of the song she was learning today. I explained she can see Mrs. J anytime, and we can still learn the song. I explained all the benefits to moving on to First Grade and now she's at least open to the idea. Occasionally.

The difficulty in this situation is is this a situation where we allow her the freedom of choice for her immediate comfort, or do we, as her parents, jump on this great opportunity for her longterm well being? It won't necessarily harm her to remain in Kindergarten, but it would benefit her in so many ways to move on. Other than the minor discomfort of moving to a new classroom and getting a new teacher, there's is nothing negative about this move.

Educationally she will be benefitted, but one other thing Mrs. J pointed out is the fact that Gracie is taller than all the other children in her class. She is already the height of a first grader, and will keep up with that group of children, and not stand out as much as she would if she remained among children her age. That doesn't matter later in life, but it does in Elementary School.

James and I will talk more about it tonight, but I really think tomorrow I'll be at the school to recommend testing for advancement. I think regardless of what decision we make, this is step one before anything else.

Beginning Ballet

Last Wednesday, Gracie finally began ballet classes. When she was three, we told her we would put her in ballet someday, and ever since, she has asked and asked, "When am I going to start ballet?" Like always. Sometimes every single day. We would always tell her soon, and then sometime in the spring, one or the other of us said, "In the Fall." We heard about it no more.

We have felt for all this time that skill-wise she was ready for classes. What concerned us was (1) the ups and downs of our family life as a whole, and (2) the clingy separation anxiety she exhibits when we're in a down. With all of our changes, we were more than concerned about investing in a class only for her to cling to my leg or be forced in kicking and screaming.

As summer was coming to an end, and the word "Fall" was tossed around in an anticipatory way, we began to hear again about dance. But this time it was different. There were no more questions, just statements of fact that she would be starting dance in the Fall. Now there were reminders as often as there once were questions. So we chose a studio and enrolled her in a combo ballet/tap class.

Last Wednesday was her first class, and as I watched her settle in, the look on her face was like something in her life was finally complete. Her teacher, Ms. Pam is suited to work with children. She's so much fun, and treats them as seriously as any little prima ballerina should be treated.

Today in her second class, she was chosen as line leader to march the group to the barre during tap. She then was chosen as the fairy princess to dance around and with her fairy wand, make the flower ballerinas bloom. She had the best time, and was just giddy all afternoon.

Parenting can be such a challenge much of the time, but there are few rewards in life like providing an opportunity for your children that really matter to them, bring joy to their lives, and thrill their little hearts.

Staples

Bub is all boy. He's as rough and tumble as they come, which historically has been a challenge for us. All the rest of our family is very laid back. We all prefer hanging out at the book store, having coffee, going to the museum, catching a film. He enjoys all of those locations, but prefers swinging from the rafters whereever we are.

Now that he's older, it's a little easier. He understands there's a time and place for craziness, and that we will indulge his need for space and energy-burning, but when he was small, there was no understanding by him at all. He had two speeds: full-on or asleep.

We were genuinely concerned that he would not live to be four years old. He was a peaceful baby, but at about 18 months, we began to see him revving up. By two, he wanted to go full speed, but we were able to limit him quite alot. At three, however, the tide turned, and the wildness was out. Control was no more. He literally had stitches twice in his head from going headlong into the fireplace, lots of cuts and scrapes, more bruises than I've ever seen on any child, stitches on his buttcheek from one of many attempts at flying, and a broken collarbone from launching off a slide (maybe another attempt at flight).

At four, Bub was diagnosed with ADHD and began taking medication, which really helped him slow down. It was a struggle to decide to medicate because we were more of the school of structure and discipline, but for him, that was not enough. When the medication kicked in, he was like a brand new boy. He could sleep, he could sit down for a full meal, he could have a conversation and develop friendships and relationships. Anyway, from four on, even with ups and downs, life became so much easier.

Bub is now six, and will be seven in November. He's as bruised as any normal boy, and still has those random cuts and scrapes. Just before school started this year, we had an especially early summer morning. I gave him his first and second pill hours earlier than I normally do, and I then forgot his evening booster before we went to Celebrate Recovery. About 3:00 P.M., it was clear the medication had worn off.

As the afternoon progressed, he was much harder to manage, but more concerning was the fact that he was incapable of paying attention. When we got to church, he jumped out of the car after a craft paper that had just blown out the door. Not paying attention at all, he rotated and turned to stand just below the sharp corner of the open door.

I heard his head split. I watched his face as the realization that he had just really hurt himself became clearer. I watched the pain take over and the tears start to flow. As I was holding him, stopping the blood, and waiting the long hours in the waiting room for the staples, I remembered how crazy our life used to be, and how much I appreciate the boy we now get to know.

She's a dancing queen

My little Gracie loves to dance. She always has. Even before she could walk, she would pull up on something or other and do that bouncing baby boogie when there was music in the background. This summer, we watched the kid's show Hi-5 every single day, and every day Gracie would do all the dances. (The show's very repetitive, so after two or three days of the same episode, and she would dance along without a hitch.) This is her this summer, busting a move...

Shut up, Rob Bell...I've been Tartuffified.

Blogging. Hate it. I stalk friends and strangers who do it so well, and I feel like I do not, cannot. I glare at the blinking cursor wondering which tumultuous storm to record. There is always so much that I could write about, and yet, refuse to. My blogaholic friend keeps stalking me, leaving subtle hints to step it up. She doesn't believe that I have nothing to say because I talk her ear off everytime I see her. Which may be why she wants me to blog -- so I'll shut up. Hmmm...

So yesterday, we had lunch together, and at the end of our time, she (while replacing her ear) again recommended blogging. I seriously do try. I look at this blank page all the time. I even started two more blogs and updated my MySpace page, so I try. Here I am again.

I think (and she knows) my biggest concern about blogging is the vulnerability that comes along with it. What good is it to take the time to write if it all nonsense, if it's all surfacy dribble. I feel concern about allowing myself to be deep and real and then alienate people. I am concerned that people know me (or even those who don't) will read what I say and perceive me to be something I'm not. Or worse, something I am.

Today, I was goofing around online to avoid homework, and Tim Gunn's Guide to Style was on TV in the background. He sent his fashion client to a Life Stylist who had her sort of chant this mantra while wearing a garbage bag and looking into a fun house mirror. Over and over, she said, "I cannot control how I am perceived. I can only control how I am presented." I was doing my best to ignore that distraction for this one, when it occurred to me that that's been my problem all along. I have not been blogging because I've been too busy tightly controlling my presentation so that perceptions of me would remain generally positive.

Who wants people to know that they're a mess -- for all the right reasons, but also for all the wrong ones? I don't want people to know that I hurt, that I struggle, that I have questions and doubts. I don't want people to know that I attack about as much as I'm attacked. I don't want people to know that I am imperfect. It would be such a shock. What nonsense.

It sounds so ridiculous writing it out, but that is truly how I felt inside. Because I am so important that evidently if things are wrong in me, then God would be proven totally unfaithful. What self-importance. What pride. Or even moreso, if I could just go on without admitting my pain, questions, or struggles, they perhaps wouldn't be real.

Last week, I read this play called Tartuffe by Jean-Baptiste Poquelin Moliere. It was written in 1664, but the subject is so contemorary and relatable. Tartuffe is a religious hypocrite who was brought in to live with a wealthy man and his family essentially so that the wealthy man could kind of earn a passage to Heaven. Tartuffe condemned the family in every way possible, and manipulated Orgon, the wealthy man. In one scene, Tartuffe tried to seduce the Orgon's wife, and these were the passages I could take for self-evaluation.

Story: She's tempting him to prove to her husband Orgon that Tartuffe is a hypocrite and a liar, but Orgon isn't coming to her rescue. She's preserving herself by telling Tartuffe that she doesn't understand how an affair could be acceptable to Heaven. This is Tartuffe's reply to her resistance:

Madam, forget such fears, and be my pupil,
And I shall teach you to conquer scruple,
Some joys, it's true, are wrong in Heaven's eyes;
Yet Heaven is not averse to compromise;
There is a science, lately formulated,
Whereby one's conscience may be liberated,
And any wrongful act you care to mention
May be redeemed by purity of intention.

When Elmire still resists, Tartuffe goes on to say this:

If you're still troubled, think of things this way:
No one shall know of our joys, save us alone,
And there's no evil till the act is known;
It's scandal, Madam, which makes it an offense,
And it's no sin to sin in confidence.

So this is what I've been doing. Remaining quiet to remain blameless. And then I read this:

"Well...It would be great if the leaders that are telling everyone that they need to trust Jesus actually did it. " -- Rob Bell, on his blog.

How mad I am at myself. Every week, every day I proclaim to others the freedom that comes from confession. I encourage people not to let their darkess consume them, but rather to trust in the Lord and allow Him to bring light. I have been such a Tartuffe, telling others what to do, but not doing myself. I've been broken, and had it not been for the piecemeal patchwork I've put together on my own, I would be wholly broken still. But that's the key. I'm trying to repair myself in my brokenness instead of just remaining here in shambles and allowing the Lord the time to restore me properly.

So this is it for the moment.

I have loads to work through -- some in process, and much more yet to come. I hope this blog works out to be a space for that work to occur. And now to honor my blogoholic buddy further, I'm off to take a nap.