1m2aSandbox

Maddie’s had her kitten for nearly a
week now, and for the past few nights she’s gotten closer and
closer to sleeping with it. We originally put the kitten in the
bathroom at night, so it wouldn’t keep Maddie awake all
night. But Maddie’s been asking and last night she got up the
courage to give it a try. So it was a Kitten Slumber Party.


I have not had to get up with one of the girls at night for over a
week (!) so I was in the midst of a profound, deep sleep when I
heard a knocking on our door. Maddie was in tears, clutching her
cheek. “I got up to turn on the ceiling fan, and when I got
back in bed the kitten hissed and scratched me really bad! It
really really hurts!”

Remember the mourning doves who built a
nest in our hanging bougainvillea?


The babies are here.


We've spent the past couple of weeks watching the site
apprehensively; doves are not known for their parenting skills, and
the odds of the two eggs actually hatching two live babies was
pretty slim. But our parents beat the odds, and we've got a couple
of surprisingly quiet baby birds now. Maddie and Cora love watching
the basket through the window, and every once and a while you'll
see a baby head appear and baby wings stretch out.


June is indeed busting out all over.

For almost a year now, Maddie’s been
begging for a kitten. And for almost a year now, I’d said,
“Not until you’re at least six.”


Oops.


As her birthday got close, Maddie’s pleas increased in both
volume and velocity until I broke down and gave her a trial run: if
she could take care of our older family cat, then we’d look
at a kitten for her. A month later, Maddie’d handled our
cat’s litter box and food and water rather well.


Oops.


So guess what we did on Maddie’s birthday?

Dear Maddie:


It’s been a long year, my big six-year-old, and while it does
feel as if it’s flown by, I also can’t believe how much
has been packed into the past twelve months.


You’ve gone from a just-finished-preschooler to an
almost-first-grader. I think this has been, for you as an
individual, the hardest year of your life. Starting kindergarten
was quite a shock to your five-year-old system, and we felt the
repercussions of that big event for several months last fall.
Adjusting to a seven-hour “work” day was incredibly
hard, but you complained less than I ever imagined, and were so
obedient about giving it a try. Let me tell you, kiddo, dropping
you off at that school door on the mornings you were clingy and sad
just about broke my heart every time, and the bravery I glimpsed in
you as you walked, crying but compliant, through those glass doors,
just about took my breath away. I’ve missed you, my love,
more that you will ever understand until you drop your own child
off at kindergarten. My most precious parts of myself – you
and Cora – are walking around outside my body, and to have
you shut away from me for seven hours a day – to have SEVEN
HOURS of your daily life a complete, opaque mystery to me –
has been painful.

Me. Sick. Fever, chills.


And my emergency back-up generator - my mother - out of town
yesterday. So I had two white, worried faces peering at me on the
couch. I think they realized something was wrong when I got out
their cereal boxes and spoons and bowls, poured milk into a small
plastic pitcher, and said, "Maddie, if you or Cora want seconds,
you can pour from this pitcher. Come get me if someone gets hurt."
And then went back to sleep on the couch.


So the girls were on their best behavior, pouring me water and
bringing me unrequested crackers and ice. They spent two
uncomplaining hours at the doctor with me, and Brian had to come
home from work early while I went comatose.


Wednesday afternoon we dragged ourselves to the airport to pick up
my mom, and the strain was finally showing on the girls. Fights,
tantrums, easy tears from both girls. And many cries of "I just
need Mommy and Me time!"


Poor kiddos. Soon.

We are officially in Summer Time, though
Maddie contests that every time I say it, as she’s acutely
aware that summer doesn’t legally (or something) begin until
much later in June, according to the Seasonal Calendar Gods.


But here in our household, it’s summer time.

It’s D Day in our house.


That’s D for Denial, baby.


Today is Maddie’s last day of kindergarten and I’m so
excited my tail is perpetually wagging. But I have to keep my
excitement in check, because acknowledging the extent of my
excitement means I would have to acknowledge that Maddie is
finishing kindergarten.