Oh, I’m so sorry—I looked up and realized I haven’t contributed in the last four months. – Mimi
On Tuesday, Kiddo will move up a class in her daycare. She will have a new teacher, a new cubby, and some new friends (and a lot of old friends who are moving up with her). This is monumental because she has been with the same teacher for the past 15 months. Both Philip and I had a bit of separation anxiety last week as we thanked her old teacher for everything. Koda-sensei will go down in the history of our family as Yuki’s very first teacher who taught her how to be with friends, how to fall asleep at nap time, how to sit and listen when someone is performing, how to clean up, put away her dishes, stack her chairs, and speak and sing in Japanese. Her years of expertise and funny, chatty nature were so reassuring everyday and filled Philip and me with gladness as we drove away after dropping Kiddo off. I was actually concerned that Philip might make a scene on the last day.
This is how we mourn.
I recently had some kids from my theatre, whom I’ve known since they were about eight years old, graduate and go to college. I have kids every year who spend a significant time of their lives at the theatre who graduate. And I feel as proud as their parents and taste a bit of sadness for them leaving. Many of the parents come up to me every year, just sobbing, thanking me. Sobbing. I can’t imagine what they must feel like to finally send them to college after years of the hardest work they have ever done. And though I’ve always said how brave my parents were to let me go at age 15, I now feel it in my skin how hard it must have been for them. I knew and they knew though, that it was the right thing to do, and because of their courage, my life could change for the better.
It has all been worth it just for that hat.
So we move forward because, well, Yuki is just rolling. She can not only speak in close to full sentences, but also distinguish who speaks what language and use each accordingly. She can go up and down the stairs with very little help, can climb in and out of the car seat (though we now have to add 15 minutes to getting anywhere), put together puzzles, play “make-believe,” and can sit absolutely still in a theatre for nearly two hours. Since the spring, she has attended, Into the Woods, Winnie-the-Pooh, Annie, and The Pajama Game at my theatre (and sat through most of each of them), and recently went to a movie theatre for the first time and watched Ponyo in its entirety without moving a muscle.
But sometimes, she still needs a little extra attention.
People often say, “enjoy her while she is young.” And while I get why they say that, because I certainly have moments when I want to just capture her raspy little singing voice in a bottle to keep forever, I want to enjoy her change and progression and not be sad every time she outgrows something. I want to have the courage my parents had, and always look to the future and celebrate her growth.
Ice cream cones at Ikea are an important milestone.
During these past few weeks, we also folded up Yuki’s playpens – one from our bedroom, and one from my work (ok, so the latter was to accommodate my new chaise lounge, but still). We put the coffee table back in the middle of our living room, because she doesn't hit her head on the corners anymore. We got her her very own table, where she can now sit and draw. A friend of mine said, “every year that they grow, you will get a piece of your life back.” Our house is now looking like we have a kid, not a baby.
Of course we now have a tent in our office. We gain some, we lose some, I suppose.
On Tuesday, Kiddo will move up a class in her daycare. She will have a new teacher, a new cubby, and some new friends (and a lot of old friends who are moving up with her). This is monumental because she has been with the same teacher for the past 15 months. Both Philip and I had a bit of separation anxiety last week as we thanked her old teacher for everything. Koda-sensei will go down in the history of our family as Yuki’s very first teacher who taught her how to be with friends, how to fall asleep at nap time, how to sit and listen when someone is performing, how to clean up, put away her dishes, stack her chairs, and speak and sing in Japanese. Her years of expertise and funny, chatty nature were so reassuring everyday and filled Philip and me with gladness as we drove away after dropping Kiddo off. I was actually concerned that Philip might make a scene on the last day.
This is how we mourn. I recently had some kids from my theatre, whom I’ve known since they were about eight years old, graduate and go to college. I have kids every year who spend a significant time of their lives at the theatre who graduate. And I feel as proud as their parents and taste a bit of sadness for them leaving. Many of the parents come up to me every year, just sobbing, thanking me. Sobbing. I can’t imagine what they must feel like to finally send them to college after years of the hardest work they have ever done. And though I’ve always said how brave my parents were to let me go at age 15, I now feel it in my skin how hard it must have been for them. I knew and they knew though, that it was the right thing to do, and because of their courage, my life could change for the better.
It has all been worth it just for that hat.So we move forward because, well, Yuki is just rolling. She can not only speak in close to full sentences, but also distinguish who speaks what language and use each accordingly. She can go up and down the stairs with very little help, can climb in and out of the car seat (though we now have to add 15 minutes to getting anywhere), put together puzzles, play “make-believe,” and can sit absolutely still in a theatre for nearly two hours. Since the spring, she has attended, Into the Woods, Winnie-the-Pooh, Annie, and The Pajama Game at my theatre (and sat through most of each of them), and recently went to a movie theatre for the first time and watched Ponyo in its entirety without moving a muscle.
But sometimes, she still needs a little extra attention.People often say, “enjoy her while she is young.” And while I get why they say that, because I certainly have moments when I want to just capture her raspy little singing voice in a bottle to keep forever, I want to enjoy her change and progression and not be sad every time she outgrows something. I want to have the courage my parents had, and always look to the future and celebrate her growth.
Ice cream cones at Ikea are an important milestone.During these past few weeks, we also folded up Yuki’s playpens – one from our bedroom, and one from my work (ok, so the latter was to accommodate my new chaise lounge, but still). We put the coffee table back in the middle of our living room, because she doesn't hit her head on the corners anymore. We got her her very own table, where she can now sit and draw. A friend of mine said, “every year that they grow, you will get a piece of your life back.” Our house is now looking like we have a kid, not a baby.
Of course we now have a tent in our office. We gain some, we lose some, I suppose.
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