Hollman Hullabaloo: January 2015

Its Christmas break.

I'm taking my few precious days off to catch up on a few things, one of them being the blog. I'm aiming for 5 posts, so we'll see how that goes. This one though, is actually better off being late. Had I wrote about Kindergarten that week it would have been a weepy post of "how did we get here?" and "oh my, I can barely breathe. He doesn't need me anymore!"

Which in many ways were true for me that day. I was nervous. I cried in the car on the way to work after dropping Collin off. I was a bit of a mess until about 3:30, when I started to get excited for him to come home and tell us all about it.

He was not. He was excited and happy and grinning from ear to ear. He was pure joy. It melts might heart just to recall that day.

Kindergarten.
Sigh.

Its one of those pivotal moments in life where everything stops for a brief instant. You suddenly see everything that's happened in the past five years in pecha kucha fashion come skidding out in front of your internal movie screen. Its all there. Being born, first steps, first two wheel bike ride, first day of pre-k, first smile, first foods, first argument, first serious trouble-making, first "perseverance wins!" opportunity. It all leads to that first moment of Kindergarten. I was so very proud and so scared shittless in the same heartbeat. I almost couldn't believe it. It felt surreal. Then it felt terrifying. Then surreal. You get the idea.

What if he hated it? What if he didn't make any new friends? What if he couldn't keep up with the focus required for Kindergarten? What if he forgot to eat his lunch? What if he lost his mittens, or coat, or backpack? How would he navigate the crowds?

So many worries.
So few good reasons to have them.
Besides, you know, being a mom.

Remember, I said its December now? We've had three solid months of Kindergarten. One report card. One call home (ouch), three "I'm so proud of myself I'm beaming!" moments, at least six "We're so proud of you, we're beaming" moments from us, one panicked moment of oh no. This isn't going to go well. One puke in the hallway, one forgotten set of gloves, a gazillion books read, a dozen new friends (on again, off again, on again, as it goes in elementary school). 85 one quarter eaten lunches (ugh, some battles you just don't fight!), impressive gains in detailed drawings, content knowledge, math, spelling and the list goes on.

For every worry I had, there has been a triumph. We're still standing, looking forward to the second half of the year. Its going to be great. Collin is doing great. He has an amazing teacher who really has set the bar high for the rest of his years. I get to volunteer about once a month and communicate with her every Friday. It's downright lovely.

Its all about perspective.

Because you know what? Collin has to work hard. He really really does. Academic stuff, reading and math are easy for him, but self-control is not. Its difficult. He has to REALLY work at it. Like focus on it all day long. He's exhausted, monitoring it, and he really really tries at school. Sometimes he's super successful, and other days not so much. He gets wound up, excited, ready to topple the world, and sometimes can't come down to regulate like the rest of the kids. It takes a bit of coaching and prompts for redirection. This working hard business has taught me a lot about kindergarten.

Mostly, that every single kid in the class is working hard at something. I get to see glimpses of it, but its amazing to me that his teacher knows all 26 working hard priorities. Some kids are more visible- the girl and boy who are in a small group that are just learning beginning sounds and are eager beavers for more information-- they're working hard to stay with the class as they move into independent reading. The kids who are shy and reserved, they are working hard to be assertive and independently complete tasks. The kids who are struggling with home challenges are working really hard to find balance, to be okay at school no matter whats going on in their lives. The kids who act out because, mostly, they don't understand the content, are working hard to see the value in learning so that its easier, and so that acting out doesn't have to be the priority. Sometimes the kids know what they are working on, sometimes they don't. Its an amazing orchestra of work.

But its great. Because we get to be cheerleaders, sounding boards, and teachers. We get to emphasize the good and support learning from the mistakes. In the Kindergarten world, I am entirely an optimist. I hope when Collin looks back on it, he sees me as his champion. The one to help build is skills. To help create capacity so that he can move on in this great big world and feel successful. Feel what its like to work so hard for something and then reach a goal.

We're on a journey now, and its not so scary anymore. There are lots of kids in the hallways, but if you know where you are headed, it doesn't really matter so much. There are lots of ways to lose gloves, and mittens and hats and backpacks. But there are also a lot of people who really love my kindergartner and all the others too. They help. They always help. Its inspiring.

I think if you wanted to hear the inside track though, going to the source is best:

Me: Collin, do you like Kindergarten?
Collin: Yes. I love Mrs. Fields. She's the best teacher. She gives the best hugs and always is nice.
Me: Whats you favorite part?
Collin: Recess
Me: What does Mrs. Fields say to you?
Collin: She always says "Good job!"

So to all of us: our family, the teaching staff, and the world of parents out there with Kindergartener's, I follow Mrs. Fields lead: Good job. We are all, collectively, doing a good job.

Balance.
Breathe.

Summer is finished. I was so sad to see it go this year. We had such a terrific time. This summer was all about doing and enjoying the moment, savoring the sweet afternoons, warm evening, campfires and even the raccoons. Yes. Racoons (see my previous post). It was less about technology and blogging and computing and working and digging into the hole of tireless despair of overburdened and overworked. I'm done excusing myself from creating new blog posts. I'll keep posting, because this is in many ways the boys book of records and photos, and ways they are growing up, but dear reader if you are wondering where the heck we are and why we haven't updated, well, just assume from now on we are outside, having family game night, riding bikes, playing together, tickling each other, laughing and giggling away from all things digital.

Sometimes I look forward to summer as a time to relax and unwind. To finish unfinished projects. But my thinking has shifted much on this. Summer is actually not the time for these sorts of things. Fall and the dead of winter is. Summer is the time to seize the moment, to suck up each moment of fun. Just because there is more daylight doesn't mean I'll actually do more things (which is part of my more obsolete sense of "finish up in the summer") and this year, we practiced what we preached with reckless abandon.

In brief, summer went like this (with rapid succession delivery said all in one breath): Collin's birthday, camping, a 2 week visit to Michigan for a girls weekend, and then my friend Karen's wedding and sister in law's wedding shower, boys summer weekly camps, more family camping, fourth of July in Wisconsin (camping) with family, then a family visit (Drew's mom and aunt Jan came for a weekend), more fantastic family camping, a trip to Dallas, another family camping trip, a trip to the lakehouse, the state fair, the first day of kindergarten for Collin and preschool for Owen, Drew's birthday, a trip back to Michigan for my brother's wedding, more family visits (to bring back our dog!) and then finally my birthday, to round out our fun, right down to the day fall started.

Take a breath. It was great. It looked something like this: