Wednesday, July 13, 2011

"Bye Bye, best bubby"

Roman's first day of first grade was on Monday - a momentous, celebratory and exciting event, no?

Well, yes and no. Somehow the day began and ended in tears. First mine, then his.

Leading me to wonder - why?
It's fairly easy to figure out a mamas tears on her kiddos first day of school, no matter the grade. Starting a new grade in school has "birthday" qualities, it represents new beginnings, milestones, new tasks to undertake, people to meet, there are fears, imagined or actual, memories of ones own first days. I told Roman how I met one of my best friends on the bus in first grade. I also remember getting separated from another friend in first grade class for what could have only have been described as excessive silliness.

After getting Roman to his new class with a hug and kiss from his baby brother, who left saying
" Bye Bye, best bubby"
Ryan and I slowly made our way down the very long hall with kids and parents rushing to and fro. I overhead a husband ask his wife "and how's mom doing" I knew the tone, he was making sure she wasn't going to spew snot and ears before the send off. Something Aaron would ask me had he been able to be there. Not just a few minutes later, as we were leaving the building I heard a mom tell her toddler, "well, it's just me and you now", something I would, and was actually about to say to Ryan.

That's about when I started to loose it, so I text Aaron, with a "call me" plea and just waited till I could talk to him. I longed for my old crew of mamas in CO to commiserate with......I imagine the first grade start day at Romans old school ....who was still home with a toddler, who was finally "free" ( as if), who had business plans and resumes in hand ready to get to it? Who just got some freaking FREE time to finally CLEAN the FREAKING out of the _________ OF THE __________?

But I don' t really have anyone here to commiserate with, and back in CO everyone is still on break anyways, so I text my uber busy husband at 8am and he talked me down from my under caffeinated ledge, and we talked about what we always talk about when it comes to Romans education, which is staying involved, keeping him engaged, and busy with extracurricular activity's which will ultimately help him to make new friends. I do plan to volunteer in class and join PTO activities as they sprout up. Bu it takes time, and I'm still new to the school too, it's not just Roman who is a NKOB!

After an uneventful day in Mama- Ryan land ;the gym, ( great kids play room for Ryan to play in while I exercise ) a visit to the grocery store, a long nap- for him, not me, ( I'm not a napper) I was anxious to find out about Romans day and we greeted him off the bus with otter pops and squeals of joy from Ryan.

Later we waited for Aaron to get home and Roman recounted his day, yes the teacher is nice, yes he liked it, yes , yes, yes. All good.

By bed time we were riding him to get in pajamas ( a usual battle) and when I checked in on him he was huddled in a corner crying. Crying hard, big tears and when I asked him what was wrong he said he was sad. "Just sad" he said. We pressed a bit and he started in on "I'm lonely" "I have no friends in class" "I miss my old friends and school".I lost it and had to go to another room- superdad had to take over, talk the kid down and get him to go to sleep.


I think the reality of the move finally set in for him.

Aaron and I discussed it and realized he is having feelings he has never had before, the types of feelings some kids don't have till way later in life, if at all, and we have to let him have those feelings in addition to helping him process them. We can only tell him " it takes time" or the fall back of, "don't worry". But my inside voice asks "how cognizant is a 6 year old of those statements"?

God only knows I feel lonely. I have no friends. I don't even have a favorite checker a the grocery store yet. I feel like we are somewhat of a holding pattern in a short term rental is not helping, but it does give us something to look forward to. And I will admit I have been a little hesitate to reach out around me and feel like an interloper of sorts, we moved into a house that, according to the neighbors has always been a rental and is on the brink of foreclosure / short sale. They surely see our garage filled to the max with boxes and know we are not here to stay. That and the fact that we are set back from the road, with an fairly awesome long driveway for the kids to play on, but is not great for neighborly banter.

But still feel so guilty, so bad for little guy, who instead of ultimately laying down in celebration of his first day is riddled with sadness. I want him to know I feel the same but want to feel different, that I know things will get easier.

Yes, It takes time and as my friend Deana pointed out in an encouraging e-mail "You'll find your niche. Better to find it in your own hood anyway".


It takes time. We don't worry.

5 comments:

Mac said...

Laura,

What a wonderful, poignant tale.

I was a possibly overly-sensitive kid and sometimes felt like I was all alone in the world when feeling aches and traumatic reactions. I - for one - would have benefited from a hug and an affirming, "Don't worry, son, I feel those things too...we'll get through it."

That sage advice and $1.50 will get you a small cup of coffee anywhere! Keep up the good mama work, and keep blogging!

Mac

Michelle Frae Cummings said...

I'm so sorry! Do you plan to stay in the general area? If so, check out http://www.meetup.com/ its where i made my mommy friends for life and started my craft group. hugs!

Hilda said...

I'm sad for Roman. I know he will make new friends soon. It is "time" that he needs. One day he will understand. Hang in there Mama. All you can do is give him love.

Hilda said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Mama On the Move said...

Thank you all for the advice,

and yes Michelle, I have found some SAHM meetup groups and I am going to a playdate tomorrow!

One week later and he is doing great, already has a few favorite friends in class.