1st day

sometimes i feel like a broken record. a broken record with no speakers. i find myself telling my kids what to say waaaay often: say 'thank you', tell her 'i'm sorry', say 'hi,' what do you say?, say 'you're welcome,' say 'excuse me,' tell him 'no, thank you,' say 'please,' tell them 'goodbye,' etc. can they be polite, thoughtful, or sweet without being prompted? and do they even hear what i say? because i repeat myself a lot. too much. i guess i've been feeling a little invisible lately.

so yesterday, layla and i walked together to her first day of "preschool." (in quotations because it's really just a little rotation thing that some friends and i are doing for our 3-year-olds who've been left behind by the oldest sibling going to school.) she was sooo excited about starting "stool" but clutched my hand tightly the whole way there. nearing her friend's house where preschool was going to be, she pulled my hand to her cheek and held it there a minute, then whispered, "mom, i love you."

it almost made me teary! as her little heart was mustering up courage to take the big step into school (she took this very seriously), she needed ME; i was her grounding force.

don't worry--i'll refrain from breaking out into singing "wind beneath my wings" here, but i will say this: i didn't feel invisible anymore. i allofasudden felt my role as a mother looming larger than life. mothers are desperately important in their children's lives, especially when they need support, strength, love, a little extra of whatever it is they're not feeling. isn't that strange and kind of sad that i forget that? but i do, in the day-to-day stuff.

anyway. here's the traditional front-step pic of layla on her first day of school. she carefully selected every last item of adornment you see before you, from her hairstuff to her favorite hand-me-down dress to her 3-sizes-too-big sparkly red shoes.


love this girl.