Folks, we have entered a new phase in our lives over here at the Perkins house. PRESCHOOL!
Yes indeedy, in just a little over a week Little Miss Norah Pants will be starting preschool. We are going to wake up early in the mornings, get our little selves dressed, tame her wild hair, grab her packpack and take her booty to school. She is excited. She is so excited that pretty much the only thing she will talk about is SCHOOL! And KIDS! And MOM I NEED A PACKPACK!
So yeah, she's excited. I am excited. But dude, it has been a long road for me to get to that place. See, I always has this expectation that I was going to be a stay at home mom until my kids went to kindergarten. And even then, maybe I would home school them, because that's just the kind of person I imagined I was going to be. I was going to be the gold star standard of stay at home mothering. Our days would be filled with perfectly structured activities, play time, snack time, story time, craft time. We would have play dates and go to story time and day camps in the summer. This expectation of my stay at homery follows in line with the expectation that I would be a great dog loving person and the kind of wife her meets her husband at the door with a cocktail and a fresh out of the over casserole.
But here's the reality. Dogs annoy the shit out of me. They are smelly and hairy and slobbery. Rusty doesn't drink and I hate casseroles. And I am not a highly structured person who can set that kind of healthy home learning environment, who can continually stimulate and engage a very smart, very high maintenance child. I'm just not. And that idea of myself, even though I have never really exhibited those skills for an extended period of time, has been really hard to let go of. I kept thinking that if I could just be more disciplined, more inspired, if I could just buckle down it would be ok, I would unleash the homemaker goddess in myself. Alas, she never came out. Because she, as I had conceived her to be, didn't exist in me.
When it really comes down to it, the decision to have Norah go to preschool has to come down to what Norah needs, not what me and my crazy think we need. Norah needs more structure, she needs to be with other kids and learn how to be a friend. She needs to learn how to function in a group, and she needs more stimulation. No, I'm not going to pretend that I am some kind of unselfish saint, always putting my kids needs before my lunacy. To be completely honest, I have kept Norah home with me longer than I probably should have, because I was afraid of what it would mean if I let her go. It would mean that I wasn't good enough, I failed, that I didn't love her enough. Right?
Totally wrong. Because the reality of the situation is, I am good enough, and no matter how much I love Norah, that love isn't going to make me someone entirely different than who I am. I am a homemaker goddess, just a different kind. I can make a mean blueberry muffin, can craft with a 3 year old like you would not believe, and have a lovely, kooky home that very accurately represents who we are, a place where we all feel comfortable and can rest and be ourselves.
It has taken me a long time to get here, but I am excited for Norah. I'm excited for her to get her own little life, and excited to be able to work more for a little while. And when I'm done working full time, after the 7 weeks that my job has open for me, I'm excited to have some good one on one time with Maximus.
So this week we are going to my sister's house. And next week, we start school. We have one more week of summer, one more week to find the perfect packpack and then we start our new adventure.