The Blue Folder...

It was love at first sight with these two

I think all of us working mommies need to go on strike. 

 

We need to all quit our jobs and demand that we have earned the privilege to stay home and raise these children that we have carried around in our bodies for nine months (not to mention the delivery process ;)).  They deserve it, we deserve it--and time just goes by way too damn fast!  We don't, and they don't, ever get that time back.  It seems the most time we are able to spend with them it those nine months they are attached to us, then a short "maternity leave", and then they are out in the world, being tossed about by various people who we love and trust to help us raise the most precious beings in the world to us.  So precarious a scenario, so sad in some ways, unfair in others, but life as most of us know it...
The cause of this emotional tirade?  A rather benign looking little blue folder that came home in Griffyn's preschool backpack yesterday with an innocent white label that read "Kindergarten Registration" with his full name and our address--all official and officey looking.  I resigned myself to NOT become a puddle on the floor.  I opened it up, and the OCD in me was first struck by the amazing impressiveness of the awesome organization--one side labeled "information to keep" and the other "paperwork to fill out and return"--just going to go with that feeling and channel those thoughts... 
Then I started going through the paperwork.  One of the pamphlets read "Childhood is not a race; it's a journey!"--and it was over.  Darn it!  Tears.  What a fabulous quote--I just love our school system--can't say that enough of Carlisle.  But how many times do I feel like it IS a race?  Like we don't have time to slow down and discover, meander, just get dirty and messy (and of course get cleaned up afterwards ;)) and slowly have fun with no goal or objective in mind, wild and crazy, let the wild rumpus start fun?  Because there are things like schedules and homework and practices and games and the need for this thing called sleep and bedtimes after all of that is over and done--all very essential and major parts of life and learning--yes, but everything has seemed to have gotten a bit excessive lately--or maybe it's our occupations that are just so much more stressful and time consuming--they don't stop at "the office" by any means--or that our schedules barely leave room for shoving a granola bar down the boy's throat for "dinner" anymore.  I just feel like I blinked, and my baby is almost five.  And that makes me very, very sad. 
When Griffyn was a baby, our lives we pretty chaotic.  Our home was up for sale and we were going through hell with the Des Moines school systems.  I have never encountered such disrespect or complete thoughtlessness or disorganization from a group of adults that were supposed to be in charge of my child's education.  I was fighting the board with letters, phone calls (John Narcisse was the only board member who ever returned any of my phone calls or letters and he was attempting to get this nine month preggers mom to be on the radio with Steve Deace).  It was ridiculous at best. We had a great team; our pediatrician, Carlisle's Superintendent, each other--it wasn't enough. We were told we had to get a lawyer and they would only meet with us from 9 to 5 and not during lunch hours.  I have saved the files and files of correspondence just for fun (and to remind myself that "yes, that really happened.")
Then, Griffyn was born.  We were showing our home often--which meant keeping a house spotless all while working an already exhausting job with a new baby and four year old, getting a phone call from our Realtor and having to get the house cleaned up and finding somewhere to go (thank you, Susie) and packed up within half and hour with a baby--doing this for months--then finally selling, packing, moving--with two little ones--and living in an apartment till we found our home in Carlisle (not to mention all the confusing bank/loan/paperwork).  When we moved to our new home, Griffyn was almost 11 months old.  I do not honestly remember much of the first year of his life.  This also makes me sad.  Probably does not help that I did not sleep for most of it -- which hasn't changed much ;).  I feel like he got short changed somewhat--his "firsts" perhaps weren't as momentous (the kid learned to walk at 9 months!) and his life seemed to be in a state of perpetual frenzy...  Maybe that's why he's such an ornery little guy and not much phases him--he'll roll with anything :).


Griffyn's first outing--the Science Center

My "blueberry eyes" as nicknamed by his uncle Harold--Griffy boy

My Max Kinnick Mitchell

So as I read through his 'Kindergarten Supply List', and 'Preparing For Kindergarten' sheets (listening is important?  respect and manners are too?  following simple directions? all necessary skills? :)  hmmmmmmmmm, how long have I been saying this in our preschool classrooms ;)?) and tried to keep it together, I reminded myself again to cherish the hours and days and not worry about what comes next...  to live in the moment...  what ever that moment may be... 

and that someday, one day, we will have forever and eternity to enjoy together...  no schedules, just streets paved in gold and absolute perfection and bliss, pure heaven, in heaven...  and how incredibly awesome will that be?  so until then, no strike (there are bills to pay, after all ;)) and this momma and her boys will just keep plugging away at this life thing and keep loving and living the best way we know how...

Griffyn and Max have always both LOVED horses.  Griffyn in his horsey Jumparoo and Max with one of his MANY horses he had when he was a little tike--they have since multiplied and taken over the house...

love to you all!  and many blessings to you in all the big and little moments that make this life truly beautiful!

Max used to love to take naps on my tummy when I was pregnant because he could feel Griffyn moving around inside.  He would "hold Griffyn's hand" (which I was more often convinced was his foot) and fall asleep after singing him a song or telling him a story about all the things they would do together when he was born.  This is one of my favorite memories of being pregnant (one of the very few--as it wasn't my all time favorite experience either time :))