Before this school year began, I’ll admit I had a few concerns for my little Lina. With good reason, I think.
Last year was torrential for our family. Laid off from my job of 14 years, financially overwhelmed, and newly pregnant with terrible morning sickness, I ended up taking a retail management job out of sheer desperation – for the money and the health insurance. The result: total upheaval in our schedules and routines, which turned our little family on it’s side. I was rarely home to snuggle and play, and on the rare occasion that I was home, I was either too pukey, too claustrophobic, too exhausted or too big in the belly to hold her, carry her, or chase her squealing with delight around the house. It was a challenge to even share a movie, seated together in our favorite big chair. Pickles fell apart at the seams emotionally and so did I. She melted down frequently, for a million reasons and for no reason at all. She wanted her mommy. Period. And I wanted to be home with my little girl.
On the days that I had off or went in late, I would take her to pre-school and she’d unravel at the thought of me leaving. Here I had been home with this child for all 5 years of her life. Suddenly I’m leaving her for 10, 11, 12, 14 hours at a time – out of the house before she even woke up, returning after she’d already been put to bed by her daddy, Aunt Peg, Aunt Sue, my mother or even a neighbor. Sometimes I would cry all the way to work. Sometimes I’d excuse myself to cry in the bathroom. Every night when I drove the hour and a half home at midnight, 1:00, 2:00 in the morning, I’d visualize my last day in the building, which surely was the light at the end of the tunnel.
But the parent/teacher conference with her pre-school teacher had been troublesome. She had expressed significant concerns for Lina’s emotional state. She said she often reacted in extremes, collapsing to the floor and exploding into crying fits. Many of the moms joked that Lina was a little actress. I always smiled and agreed she was a little drama mama, but inside my heart was aching at the thought that she might be emotionally traumatized by my absence.
My friend strongly advised me not to berate myself with guilt. She encouraged me by saying that kids are resilient. Lina was being surrounded by loving family and friends who were taking care of her every basic need. That did little to comfort me at the time, because I felt like such the negligent mother. Looking back I am so overwhelmed with gratitude for my family who has never failed to be there for us at a moment’s notice. Unconditionally.
I met with Michaelina’s kindergarten teacher yesterday for our parent/teacher conference. She said Michaelina is progressing well, at about the same rate and level as most of the other kids. We discussed her report card. At the kindergarten level they give P’s (Progressing) and CS’s (Consistently Succeeds). She got all P’s and one CS. I asked if that was like getting all B’s and one A? She said to resist the urge to try and make that correlation, since developmentally, kindergartners shouldn’t really be “graded” just yet.
I filled her in on the concerns I had going into the year about Lina’s propensity for emotional release, and informed her of the past year’s events, as well as the meeting I had had with her pre-school teacher. I think I watched the lightbulb go off over her head as she responded with, “You know. Now that you mention it. She does sometimes react a bit emotionally to mild situations.” She gave me a few examples in which a kid might bump into her accidentally and she’ll fall to the ground, wounded and victimized. Typically when such injustice occurs in her classroom, the teacher will run interference, acknowledging the boo boo and asking if the student is allright. This is usually met with a quick jump from the ground, a brush-off and an occasionally tearful, “Yes. I’m ok.” With Lina, however, this is not the standard response. She will lay on the ground and wail, “NO! I’M NOT ALLRIGHT!”
Whew. I tried not to look appalled and heartbroken as she offhandedly recalled a few incidents.
I thought to myself, “You call that progress?”
