Addie got Grandpa, but he doesnt' seem to mind. Does anyone else want a bite of this? Adwen's feet prove too tempting, and we all learn that she can suddenly sit up by herself is she wants to bad enough. Ella helps Grandma with her exercises.
Elspeth has dubbed our home "Subaru House" which is cute, especially when you consider how small our "estate" is. After a long weekend at Subaru House, Elspeth was all hyped up last night (excitement from Grandma and Grandpa visiting, lots of sugar, a visit to Ethan's house, more sugar, and did we mention sugar?). Jeremy and I planned some sleep training with Addie last night, and we needed to get Elspeth to sleep elsewhere so we could let Addie make noise in their room.
Our first mistake was the timing, both kids hopped up on a weekend away from the normal schedule. My second mistake was to tell Elspeth we were going to have a slumber party in Mommy and Daddy's room. Yes, you automatically know what I mean, but my 2 year old is not aware of this concept and she thought there would be a party. Jeremy realized the error I had made, when he read her bedtime books and announced it was time to go to bed in her sleeping bag. That was when she got even more excited and asked if it was time for the party.
When I returned home from the gym at 9:30, our daughter was still wide awake. After a brief conference, we decided sleep training could wait and tried to move Ella back to her own room. 20 minutes later, I was back in her room to find her sitting on a pile of stacked stuff, and having a party of her own.
I have not seen my daughter this hopped up since I had to put her on Albuteral, and was beginning to get concerned about her ever sleeping. I read more stories, I sang my most boring songs (apparently more boring to me than her), I held her in my lap. Around 10:30, I began to feel her relax, her head conceded its weight to my shoulder at last. While her legs still twitched, she was beginning to sag. I stopped counting minutes, and started counting kicks, enjoying the weight of her in my arms.
As we sat in the darkened room, relaxing together, Elspeth quietly whispered "what is this?" I held out my hand so she could drop something in, and it felt hard and light. I automatically realized it was trash of some kind, and said "I don't know." clutching it to later find a trash can. In that peaceful moment, of near sleep, my daughter drowsily said "It came out of my nose."
Sometimes I wish there was a parenting crystal ball that told us the exact right decision to make in any given moment. Ok, I ALWAYS wish there was such a device. I think this when I am trying to decide whether to force the issue of veggies at dinner, whether she will break her neck playing gymnastics on the couch, or where to send them during the day when we can not be with them.
Jeremy and I, after much searching, had finally found a more cost effective daycare that we felt met our standards of care. We paid our fees and started transitioning Elspeth.
Yesterday I had a level 3 meltdown when Elspeth, after a nice visit to the Kangaroo room, said quietly, and with much need in her voice, "I need Bo." Yes, Ella still has her beloved Bodacious, and, while she does not often take him out anymore, he is usually locked in her arms at night. This was the first crack, that she was not handling this transition as well as we thought she was.
I know the odds are she would be fine, but my parental alarm system went off. "What if she is NOT FINE?" Once we make a choice in her life, she is the one left with the consequences. I started to think through things. The new room has much less structure than her current room, while that is OK for a lot of kids, Elspeth will most likely become a problem child in short order. The next, obviously logical, conclusion I made was that a problem child will not be loved as much as the creative genius that her current room enjoys. I started running through all the possibilities in my head, one path bright and wonderful, one slightly darker.
Jeremy and I had an emergency caucaus and realized that we can not go through with the switch. I called Next Gen, they were happy to keep the girls as though nothing had ever happened. They had been sorry to see them go, and would find a way to make it work.
So, my big Dolphin stays a big dolphin. My Cuddly Cub will continue to get her head kissed by miss Sherry each morning (averaging half a dozen kisses before I get out the door) and we will continue to have miss Lori's encyclopedic knowledge of babies at my disposal in raising our girls.
Now when I can't sleep at night, it won't be because I wonder if I am doing the best I can for my girls.
Elspeth visited the Kangaroo room in her new school for the first time today.
I have known this transition was going to happen for some time now, so I rarely cry about it anymore. And we like the new school more and more as we get to know the people there, but I do not transition easily.
Anyway, Jeremy, Elspeth and I arrived during group time, and Ella quickly joined the group in brushing her dolls hair and teeth. After putting away her doll, she looked at me and said "I need to go to the Dolphin room." I almost cried, because I knew she was longing for the place where she was as comfortable as home. The place where she knows the routine, the other kids names, and that the teachers love her. She doesn't remember meeting most of the kids in her class, because they have been with her since she started there at 12 weeks of age.
The teachers announced that it was time for the playground, and Ella conceeded that she could stay for playground time. As we made our way out to the playground, she held my hand, partly out of habit, partly for comfort. Then she was gone.
She hit the slide like the experienced playing pro that she is. She climbed up and slid down over and over. Some of the kids started to run just for fun, and Elspeth followed their example. Then the moment came when she stood alone and seemed to stare into the distance. We didn't know if she was uncertain of herself, of what to do, of these new kids, or if she just watched something only she could see. I wanted to run to her, to help her meet the other kids, to hold her tight and let her know she is loved.
Jeremy said quietly "Let her find her way."
I admit, I started to cry and tried not to make eye contact with her so she would not sense my mood. Then suddenly, our daughter fell. The kind of physical comedy fall only a small child can pull off. Where suddenly she finds herself upside down and thinks, "this is cool, I will stay here awhile."
Then we started to see the ring leader that her Dolphin teachers always describe. One young man named Hayden (who I will always adore for this very moment) seemed to notice that she was having fun and he laid on the ground too, laughing with her in the moment. Suddenly the game changed to jumping, and more kids followed them into their private world that adults don't "get."
After Elspeth led the jumping brigade for awhile, she ran back to the slide, climbed to the top and yelled "I'm a big Kangaroo!"
Once again my daughter is proving that she can transition better than I can, that she is more resilient, and that she will find the best in life. But the real message I got this morning is that I will have to let her find her own way. This won't get easier in her life, I suspect with each new situation, the stakes will get higher, and I will have to fight that urge to step in each time.