New Norms

Four is old enough to grasp "President" and to recognize Obama's face in a storefront or on TV. She knows that he and his family live in the White House. She knows his job is very important.

I'm buried in the scraps of paper that collect in her cubby, and Stella's voice with excited recognition is behind me.

"Mama! These must be pictures of all the presidents!"

I turn to look high where she is pointing. "African-American Achievers" She is showing me pictures of Martin Luther King. Rosa Parks. Twenty influential black men and women.

Obama. Sotomayor. Preschool children. Maybe the world is changing.

C-C-C-Changes

I've been obsessing lately. I am known to obsess. Pick an important topic, and it can occupy every nook in my life. Lately, it's a house. I am in love with a house. I am in love with everything about it. The windows, the natural woods in which it sits (with native Sword Ferns!), the funky butcher block kitchen, the delicious blackberries, the great, flexible floor plan, the little property line creek, the excellent neighborhood elementary, the dead end street. I love the way the street gently climbs through a canyon of native oak and then the house sits happily in a little clearing of sun. Get the picture?

The problem is that it's not ours... yet. We offered. The sellers countered. We countered back. Now we've been waiting for 24 hours and I'm gonna flip out. I know there is a another counter offer. So what is going on?! Please oh please, people of the universe, send your vibes to these nice sellers and let them choose us. And let the other people who offered find the house of their dreams very, very soon.

We arrived at this new home by some accident. We like our current home a whole lot. It has inlaid wood floors. Updated kitchen and baths. Mostly, I like it for its location and more for its history. We married in our back yard. I gave birth to both kids less than 15 feet from where I now sit. But it never felt like a forever home. The kitchen doesn't look over the yard. There are only 2 bedrooms on one floor. And the local schools suck. Real bad. I've been trying to help our local elementary for 4 years now. But I am losing hope. Stella enrolls in kindergarten this December.

I teased myself: If we find a 3 or 4 bedroom home within in a good school boundary that has a kitchen and living room that look to the back and a babbling brook- I'll move. Well, this house that hangs in the offer/counteroffer is exactly that house.

Both placentas are still in the freezer. I think I never planted them with a tree because I knew deep down we would move on. I've found where I want to make deep roots. But like those last weeks of pregnancy, never knowing when the labor will start, but seeing that child in my mind's eye... all we can do is obsess, and wait.

We Made the Decision, Part 2

Yesterday morning I sought shade at a plastic picnic table while talking about booster shots and shyness with Stella’s new preschool teachers. Stella ignored me in favor of the ice cream stand made from buckets and chairs, the giant slide, the girl who played house. It was a battle to extract her. I was thrilled to be negotiating. Vovo is waiting. We’re having a party tonight; you need to have your nap so that you can have fun later. We’ll come back and play next week.

We’ll come back. Yes! After weeks of polling my parent-friends and harassing my mother-in-law with the merits of this school over that one, we have enrolled Stella in our local preschool. I have a really good feeling about it. The decision came down to the walkable, time-tested, dog-eared, multicultural school v. the brand new, flashy (animals! Redwoods! a submerged in the ground boat!), make-our-own-organic-tea, 10-minute highway drive school. The old school is a little cheaper. The new school’s play yard and plans for kids making books with their own digital images (etc, etc) was hard to pass up, but we couldn’t ignore the years of experience, real diversity, and proximity of our choice. I wavered even until I handed over the deposit, asking “Is this $420 refundable?” But then Stella started to play, and I started to chat with the staff and watched them interact with the kids, and I relaxed. Melted into the bench, actually, relieved to be done with the pros and cons list and to have made the best choice for our family. Our morning seemed like a casual family picnic with the grownups kindly asking one boy not to play pretend guns and another getting smothered with kids-hugs when she arrived. One school had an impressive list of goals and philosophical foundations. The only mission of Stella’s new school is play and peace. I could feel it %100.

Pile of Milestones

We are a house of milestones. Every time we arrive at putting on a shirt, zipping a boot, descending stairs, we get smarter, more confident in our parenting. Then we have a new set of skills to master, a new type of tantrum to face. And we question ourselves.

Stella is completely diaper free. She’s been 5 nights in “unterVear.” Last night she gave away the rest of her diapers to a friend. She’s really excited about pooping in the toilet. So much so that she waits to flush (another favorite activity) and runs to her father or grandmother and says, “Look, I pooped. Come see!” She then leads them to the bathroom. Once when Augusto was at work, I convinced her that saving her stinky poop in the toilet all day was not a good option, she drew a picture of it. A really good picture. Her first representational picture. I’m a proud mother, what can I say?

Otto is laughing at Boo and Raspberries, flipping over onto his belly at every chance, doing push-ups and breakdancing (the wave?). He’s working on some teeth. He’s also sleeping longer stretches of 5 or 6 hours. They’re happening mostly before I go to bed, but I know it’s a start. After three plus weeks of travel, sleeping in a small bed with him, and sharing a room for all four of us, he became a boob monster and baby who needed too much parenting to sleep. So instead of following the progress to a likely place of jiggling or nursing for 45 minutes before bed every night, we started crying it out. He’s 3 month’s younger than Stella was when we did it to her. He’s never really cried more than 30 minutes in his whole life, but I don’t want to get to that awful angry place we went with Stella before we finally caved and let her cry to sleep learn to sleep on her own. Ideally, we would have completed the job before the Vovos (grandparents) arrived, but we didn’t. For naps and nighttime he usually fusses and/or cries for 5 or 6 minutes- but it ranges from 1 to 14 minutes. It is hard to listen to, but I do believe it is ultimately good. Or else my kids will need years of therapy to undo all of our parenting mistakes.

It’s so hard to know what is “right.” It’s also hard to let go or stop worrying about what is “right.” Every parent chooses her own way to teach, discipline, feed, clothe, diaper, talk to, or even play with their child. Of course we want “the best” for our kids. But that judgment varies widely. I have spent countless privileged hours researching schools, sleep tactics, diaper choices, baby carriers, recipes, and even toddler chair and table heights. I have stayed up hours later than is good for me, twisted my neck and shoulder out of whack, and lost actual face to face time with my husband or kids or even other people. Sometimes I think it pays off. We end up with a product or routine that works for us. But how can I really know if I wouldn’t have been as happy (or happier?) with something entirely different?

I need to remember that every time we let go of our expectations or fears, something good happens. Like with diapers. I wanted Stella to be out of diapers before Otto was born. Then soon after. Then I gave up. That’s when she mounted the toilet at my Mom’s house. It is the same thing with preschool. I stressed so much in the beginning, found a fantastic school, stressed more about it, missed the deadline for mailing in our deposit, kicked myself, then got waitlisted at our “inferior” neighborhood school because we’re not a “working class” family that wants 5 days/ week. So I just gave up. Then a new school opened that I think we’ll love when we see it next weekend. Will it be perfect? Will it be right? Will it be better for Stella than Montessori or any of the half-day (which doesn’t work for a working couple like us), wait-forever pay-a-fortune schools in our area? I don’t know. And I think I don’t care- as long as she loves it.

We Made the Decision!

We have made the big preschool decision! She’s not going to preschool this year. I visited a few and found one I really like. Stella played happily with the other children- except one kid who wanted to do everything she was doing. I appreciated the well-kept wooden toys, healthy snacks, big outdoor play area, and gradual progression from play-based to slightly more structured as the kids get older. We’ll probably send her there next year when she’s 3. For now we’ll be switching her to an in-home Brazilian day care ½ mile from our house when our nanny returns to Brazil. There are eight kids max with 2 or 3 adults speaking Portuguese to each other and the children. It will cost less because I don’t really need three full days per week, but must pay for them with the preschool. I don’t know if I’m even ready for three days anyway. The idea of an extra day just for me to get things done and/or make some art, play in the garden, etc. is wonderful in so many ways, but I love being with her and am into a comfortable routine. The day care hourly rate is higher, but it will be much more affordable over all if I go on maternity leave for a second baby next year. Most importantly, Stella will learn more Portuguese. With her Papai having such a long commute, she gets her Portuguese on the weekends and with the nanny. Another year of the language will really help in the long run.

It’s truly hard to trust my decisions regarding Stella’s care. They are more critical than most decisions in my pre-motherhood life. A mess up with a care provider choice could have devastating affects. A smart choice can make our lives easier. I feel like I’ve met my own little developmental milestone.

I Read the Research

Today's Chronicle reports a UC Santa Barbara study that shows the benefits of preschool disappear by 3rd grade. This means kids who attended and didn't attend preschool perform the same in math and language by the time they're 8. These data come on the heels of a Stanford/ UC study that showed cognitive gains from preschool contrast with significant slowing of social- behavioral development. The behavioral factors, which were measured in kindergarten, included aggression, acting up, sharing, and showing the motivation to engage in classroom tasks.

So now what? I'm not overtly thinking of putting Stella in preschool for the cognitive benefits, but for the socialization. She loves playing with other kids. She gets bored with me at home. She could go into a smaller family daycare, but preschool gives me the idea that she'll learn a thing or two (as a bonus). I also have the idea that she should go to preschool. Like it's a requirement akin to brushing her teeth. So like any normal person, I read the research and stay mired in my old ideas.

Primary Education

I have good organizational skills. I can make a matrix on any subject and creatively file so that most people can find what they're looking for. I am well-educated and laid back enough to comfortably wait in a very long line at the post office. I live in a neighborhood jammed with strollers. I have internet access, a cell phone, a home phone, a car, and (currently) 7 days a week to make calls and go places. Why can't I find a preschool? Why can’t I even decide which preschools to consider? I'm not looking for the standard 2 year, 9 month start gen-U-ine School, but some place to deliver Stella three full days per week when she's 2. Our nanny is moving at the end of the year.

People warned me that preschool entry is competitive. Competitive?! Despite this warning, I am in shock. Obviously, there are two possibilities:

1. Parents are freaks to think that the “right” preschool assures the little one a slot at Harvard/ Sarah Lawrence/ Whatever.
2. I am a neglectful mother whose child will never make it through primary education.

I have heard of people who have been on waiting lists since before conception. Thankfully, I don't know any of them because I don't know what I would say or do to them if I did. I also just found out that people camp out for preschool admission!

I went to a preschool fair on the weekend. I saw the tables with photo displays of multihued smiling faces and small stacks of shiny pamphlets. Were they handed out more eagerly to some parents than others? My mama friends and I are generally a balanced bunch. But school is making some of us a bit nutty. I ran into a dad at the fair. He looked scrubbed and planned out. The baby was in a matching outfit. Dad admitted the family had "dressed up” just in case they might talk with an administrator of a potential school. They are kind, normal people. She’s an artist. I think he’s a tech guy. They had a reggae singer at their son’s first birthday. I don’t think he was kidding about their admission anxiety.

Stella will be too young this winter to enter most of the schools- which is good since we will have fewer to choose from. Good because I am wholly unprepared for the insanity of 20 plus potential schools. I have prioritized the selection criteria: Close to home or work. Minimum hours 8am to 6pm. Multicultural and affordable. Filled with happy parents and friendly teachers. That’s it.

When I left the fair I had a little lump in my throat thinking about sending my baby to school. I imagined packing her lunch, watching her wave bye and patter away. I called my mother as another lump rose in my throat. I asked how she chose my preschool. She said there was one across from the campus where she was in college. And when I couldn’t go there because I had a runny nose or it was closed, she brought me to class. I remember sitting in the back drawing.

If it could be so simple.