A big day
Last Friday (9/9/05), two unique things happened: Sarah started kindergarten, and Ben and I told our respective conversion stories for the cameras at Fenway Park.
At 8:05 a.m., 15 minutes early, Sarah's rather-tense-but-pretending-to-be-normal parents brought her to the Zervas School 15 minutes early, which almost precipitated a divorce right then and there. Although she was excited and not fearful (at least outwardly) about starting school leading up the this day, she was quieter and shyer than usual, perhaps because she's never been in such a large group of kids, all of them larger than she is. Once the bell rang, we went into her classroom, met Ms. Joe-Yen, found her locker with a bumblebee on it (she shares it with a boy named Jacob) and oohed and aahed over all the toys and activities in the room. She seemed withdrawn but not tearful, thank God, because if she had cried I certainly would have lost it. Though not as much as I did on her first day in day care after I returned to work from maternity leave. At least at this age she can ask questions and understand explanations. Not that she cried in day care since she was only three months old and probably wasn't even capable of noticing the change in locale. It was purely my own separation grieving and perhaps a warning of the postpartum depression yet to come.
So after we said goodbye, they had a parents' coffee outside, and we immediately fell in with a Dutch academic couple in Newton on sabbatical. We all had a great time, except that I accidentally spilled coffee all over Ben's shirt and clogs (brown, fortunately) as was in a bit of an altered state. When we picked up Sarah that afternoon she was fine though a bit tired, and the after-school teacher said she had been asking where we were. I'm amazed at her ability to plunge into new situations with relative aplomb and happy for the umpteenth time that she shows no sign of the painful shyness I had at her age (and basically all though childhood until I discovered the socially liberating effects of beer).
More tomorrow about our Red Sox experience...
At 8:05 a.m., 15 minutes early, Sarah's rather-tense-but-pretending-to-be-normal parents brought her to the Zervas School 15 minutes early, which almost precipitated a divorce right then and there. Although she was excited and not fearful (at least outwardly) about starting school leading up the this day, she was quieter and shyer than usual, perhaps because she's never been in such a large group of kids, all of them larger than she is. Once the bell rang, we went into her classroom, met Ms. Joe-Yen, found her locker with a bumblebee on it (she shares it with a boy named Jacob) and oohed and aahed over all the toys and activities in the room. She seemed withdrawn but not tearful, thank God, because if she had cried I certainly would have lost it. Though not as much as I did on her first day in day care after I returned to work from maternity leave. At least at this age she can ask questions and understand explanations. Not that she cried in day care since she was only three months old and probably wasn't even capable of noticing the change in locale. It was purely my own separation grieving and perhaps a warning of the postpartum depression yet to come.
So after we said goodbye, they had a parents' coffee outside, and we immediately fell in with a Dutch academic couple in Newton on sabbatical. We all had a great time, except that I accidentally spilled coffee all over Ben's shirt and clogs (brown, fortunately) as was in a bit of an altered state. When we picked up Sarah that afternoon she was fine though a bit tired, and the after-school teacher said she had been asking where we were. I'm amazed at her ability to plunge into new situations with relative aplomb and happy for the umpteenth time that she shows no sign of the painful shyness I had at her age (and basically all though childhood until I discovered the socially liberating effects of beer).
More tomorrow about our Red Sox experience...
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