Peter De Vries

When we were in Vancouver the week before last, my husband and I were filled with memories of our lives in the city.  For some reason, we were often compelled to share little snippets of our past lives with our daughters.  Interestingly enough, [...]]]> “Nostalgia isn’t what it used to be.”

Peter De Vries

When we were in Vancouver the week before last, my husband and I were filled with memories of our lives in the city.  For some reason, we were often compelled to share little snippets of our past lives with our daughters.  Interestingly enough, whenever we told Pip a story, she’d follow it up with one of her own.  The conversations went something like this:

“Pip, do you know that your dad used to live on a boat?  A long time ago, before you were born, I had a boat in this marina.  Look right down there, that’s where I used to live.  Isn’t that neat?  When I had to take a shower, I’d walk over to The Rowing Club right over there.  ”  Big Daddy-O’s face would light up with pride at the end of one of his tales, but instead of hearing ‘Wow,’ or ‘That’s cool, Dad,’ from his daughter, he heard the following:

“Dad, when I was a little girl, before you and Mama were even born, I used to live on a boat, right down there.  Do you see that?  I would walk right over to that building to take a bath every night.”

Kind of takes the wind out of your sails.  (Even when you no longer live on a boat.)

Denis Waitley

Don’t worry; I’m not going to be writing about Daisytree three days a week from here on in, but I have to let you know how Pip’s first REAL day at [...]]]>

“The greatest gifts you can give your children are the roots of responsibility and the wings of independence.”

Denis Waitley

Don’t worry; I’m not going to be writing about Daisytree three days a week from here on in, but I have to let you know how Pip’s first REAL day at school went down.

I waited until we were at the breakfast table to say, “So Pip, when we go to Daisytree today, Lily would like all of the parents to leave for awhile so that she can have some fun with the kids.”

Pip stopped chewing her cereal and looked straight ahead, out the dining-room window, for a good minute.  She was processing.  ”Mama,” she began thoughtfully, “I’m not used of you being gone.  Can you stay with me at Daisytree until I’m used of it?”

“Of course I will Pip.”  My husband and I looked at each other and smiled.

“You said that very well, Sweetie,” Big Daddy-O said, and gave Pip a wink.

Pip seemed happy with the discussion.  I prepared to stay at Daisytree the entire two and a half hours.  I packed an extra snack for Fig because she would be attending as well.  I knew that Lily would be supportive of whatever worked for Pip; she had told me previously that it takes some kids weeks, (and sometimes months,) of having their parents attend pre-school with them before they’re ready to fly solo.

Off we went to Daisytree.  Pip seemed happy to be there, but she kept me close to her as she watched the other mothers leave their kids.  Without exception, the children were all fine.  Lily’s teaching assistant, Louise, came over to us and said, “Pip, would you like to give your mom a big hug good-bye and come with me?”

Pip just turned to me and said, “Mama!”

“Pip, I’m not going to leave until you’re ready,” I reassured her.

“Of course!” said Louise, “your mom can stay with us as long as you want.”

Pip relaxed.  She surveyed the room.  Her two teachers were happy and smiling, the kids were all having fun, and there wasn’t another parent in sight.  In the blink of an eye, she turned to me and said,  ”You can leave now, Mama.”

Wow!  I didn’t see that coming so quickly.  ”Okay Pip, big hug.”  We embraced, then I turned from her and didn’t look back.  I grabbed a shoe-less Fig, chatted briefly with Lily on the way out of the door, and left.  I couldn’t quite believe that I was on the outside!  I walked slowly to the car, chatted with other moms, and took my time getting Fig into her car-seat in case Pip had a change of heart.  Everything seemed fine.  I was one proud mama pulling out of that driveway.

Fig and I enjoyed our one-on-one time together; running a few errands and taking a little forest-walk.  More than once, I wondered how Pip was doing, and to be honest, I missed her.  I’ve been away from her for much longer periods of time, but this felt different somehow.

Two-and-a-half hours later, I arrived back at Daisytree to see my happy three-year-old running toward me with crafts in hand.  ”Mama, Lily gave me a treasure!”

Lily gave me a treasure too.  To have my daughter’s first experience away from her family be so positive is truly a gift.

At lunch-time Pip was full of Daisytree stories.  ”Mom, I liked it when you were gone.”

I never would have guessed that those words would be music to my ears, but they were.

“That’s great Pip!”

She continued, “I went up to Lily and I said ‘my mom’s gone’ and she said ‘that’s great’ and then all I felt was…all I could feel was fun!  I just felt fun the whole time.”

Talk about happy endings.

I completely underestimated the loveliness of Lily, (the name I’ll give Pip’s teacher,) and her gorgeous pre-school, (which I’ve chosen to call Daisytree.)

Two weeks ago I wrote, (at great length, I might add [...]]]> “The art of living lies in a fine mingling of letting go and holding on.”
– Havelock Ellis

I completely underestimated the loveliness of Lily, (the name I’ll give Pip’s teacher,) and her gorgeous pre-school, (which I’ve chosen to call Daisytree.)

Two weeks ago I wrote, (at great length, I might add apologetically,) about the dilemma I faced regarding Pip and pre-school.  She had been saying that she didn’t want to go, and I wasn’t sure if I should nudge her in the direction of school or just wait for another year.

Surprisingly, just a few days after I’d written that post, Pip began to change her tune:  ”Mama, I think Toto might like to go to Daisytree.”  Toto, of course, is the stuffed polar bear that she carries with her when she’s pretending to be Dorothy.  I took Toto’s willingness as a very good sign, and decided to move forward with the initial pre-school meeting.

Lily wisely asked to meet with each child and parent privately before the first day of school.  I told Pip that we were going on a special date together to meet Lily and visit Daisytree.  Once she found out that I was going to stay with her the entire time, she was excited to go.

After greeting us warmly at the door, Lily guided Pip into the enchanting world of Daisytree.  There were lovely silks hanging from the ceiling, inspiring art works on every piece of wall, a gorgeous easel with paints and brushes ready to go, a table with puzzles, a centre with fossils and magnifying glasses, a water station with cups and bubbles inside, and a plethora of other intriguing items.

Pip had a brush in her hand within the first three minutes.  Lily’s manner with Pip was so encouraging, gentle and respectful that Pip felt comfortable engaging in conversation with her immediately.  Pip was mixing colours and talking about her technique:

“Lily?”

“Yes Pip?”

“Sometimes I like to do a combo.”

“Oh, combos are lovely aren’t they?  Would you like to add some sparkles to your painting?”

“Oh yes, we love sparkles!”

Pip kept referring to herself as ‘we’ throughout the meeting.  I don’t think she has schizophrenic tendencies, I think she has just picked up on my tendency to say things like,  ”We always wash our hands before we eat,” or “We have to wipe every time we use the bathroom.”    It was interesting though.  She and I have been a ‘we’ for three and a half years, and now she was taking a huge step in the direction of “I.”

Lily and Pip got along famously.  They talked about Pip’s ruby-red-slippers, (which are actually purple,) they glued little blankets on Pip’s painting, they toured around the room touching interesting things, and they hugged each other good-bye.

I got a little misty a couple of times that morning.  Fig had woken up at five am, so that might have been why my emotions rose so easily, but I suspect it was more about the pride that I felt watching my daughter create a new relationship with this lovely woman.  Pip was finding her own way to ‘be’ in the world.

Lily walked us to our car and waved at Pip until we couldn’t see her anymore.  Before I had a chance to ask any questions, Pip simply said, “Wow, Mama.”

My sentiments exactly.

but by how much you are loved by others,”

The Wizard of Oz

Grandma P. treated her two daughters and two eldest grand-daughters to an afternoon of theatre yesterday: we went to see,”The Wizard of Oz.”   We’d been talking about [...]]]> “A heart is not judged by how much you love;

but by how much you are loved by others,”

The Wizard of Oz

Grandma P. treated her two daughters and two eldest grand-daughters to an afternoon of theatre yesterday: we went to see,”The Wizard of Oz.”   We’d been talking about all things Wizard for a few weeks, and I had performed a highly condensed version of the musical for my daughters in preparation of the big event.  (This was not a hardship you understand, as I have a theatrical background and am always appreciative of a captive audience.)

Prior to the matinee, Pip knew the plot of  ’The Wizard,’ and she knew most of the songs, but she had no idea that she’d fall in love with Dorothy.  There we sat, a mere four rows from the stage; Pip on her booster-cushion with her stuffed pig ‘Wilbur’ on her lap, and me, sitting proudly at her side.  The orchestra began playing, the lights dimmed, and Pip said, “When are they going to pop up Mama?”

When Dorothy did finally pop up, Pip was enchanted.  Her favourite song is ‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow,” and it begins a bit differently in the theatre version than it does in my one-woman-show.  ”What’s this song she’s singing Mama?”  Pip looked puzzled.

“It’s going to turn into ‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow,’ in a second, Pip.”  I said.  When Dorothy launched into, ‘Somewhere,’ Pip threw me a smile of excitement, then she looked back at the stage.  Her eyes remained glued to Dorothy from that point on, and whenever the actress was offstage, Pip would ask,”Where’s Dorothy, Mama?”

Throughout the show, I was torn between looking at my daughter and looking at the stage, but Dorothy captured my heart as well.  She was beautiful.  Her voice was gorgeous, her acting was seamless, and she cried real tears when she had to say good-bye to her friends in Oz.

I got a bit choked-up watching Dorothy.  Not just because she was having such an impact on my little girl, but also because I know her dad.  We went to high-school together and I could see his smile in hers.  I imagined how he must feel watching his little girl convincingly transport an entire audience to a land of munchkins and wizards and magic.

The show was long for my little three-year-old, despite captivating performances from all of the leads.  By the two-hour mark, she started asking, “Is it over now Mama?” every time the lights dimmed for a scene-change.  She was a trooper though, and lasted until the final curtain.  I could tell she was on the edge when we walked out into the muggy summer heat and she refused to get into the hot car.  Once she understood that the alternative was to stay in the hot parking lot, she whimpered her way into her carseat and I buckled her up.

A few minutes into the drive home I looked in my rear-view mirror to check on Pip.  She looked sad.  Her face was glistening with sweat and her mouth was turned-down.  ”Are you okay, Pip?”  I asked.

“I miss Dorothy,” was the response.  She looked like she might cry.

“I know, Honey, Dorothy was a real sweetheart.”

“I think she misses me too, Mama.”