David took his kindergarten assessment test today. He did just fine, scoring above average.
I really wasn’t worried, because I know what his abilities are. I’m not saying he’s a genius, but he’s smart enough. He knows his ABCs, 123s, his address. All that basic stuff.
What he learned he learned at home. David didn’t go to pre-school. So that I can stay home with the boys, we live on a pretty tight budget. Pre-school just wasn’t something we could afford.
Since he didn’t need to learn algebra, I was pretty sure I could handle teaching him the basics. I tried for a time to do structured lessons with him every day. It didn’t work for either of us. There were too many distractions at home.
I’d make a really lousy homeschooling mom.
So his lessons came in the form of discussions when subjects came up. We taught him his address when we taught him what to do if, God forbid, he ever got separated from us out in public. Family time playing Crazy 8′s helped teach him his numbers.
It was fun, and David didn’t know he was learning.
But there were times I wondered if David was at a disadvantage, because he didn’t go to pre-school. Would he be behind? Was there something he needed to know that I wasn’t teaching him?
Today’s assessment proved that I didn’t need to worry about him learning the necessary “book” skills.
I do still worry a little bit about if he’s been socialized enough. He’s around other kids his age at church. He plays with kids at the park, and he has a new playmate next door now.
I also worry that he hasn’t had enough exposure to structured environments. What happens when he realizes he’s supposed to sit still, be quiet and follow the teacher’s instructions for four hours a day?
When I ask myself those questions, that’s when I get a small case of Mommy Guilt. Should we have found some way to send him to pre-school after all?
He’ll probably be just fine. But I can’t help it. Mom has to worry a little bit, right?
Did you send your kids to pre-school? Do you think pre-school is necessary?
I woke up on my own this morning at 7:30.
I went out to a quiet living room, fixed some coffee and oatmeal.
I watched the news and actually heard what they were saying.
I caught up on all my blog reading.
And now, at 11 a.m., I am officially bored and missing him.
My son went to Indiana last night after the fireworks to spend a few days with his grandparents. I was looking forward to today. I thought I’d sleep as long as I pleased, but was bright-eyed and bushy tailed at 7:30. (My husband however has taken full advantage and is still snoozing.)
I thought I’d like the peaceful morning. No spilled cereal to wipe up. There’s no potty training to tackle. I don’t even have any housework to do since I did it all before the 4th.
I thought maybe I’d go some place fun, but can’t think of anywhere that I especially want to go.
Oh, when my husband wakes up, if he doesn’t sleep straight through ’til tomorrow, I’ll enjoy spending some rare alone time with him. And I will feel relaxed and refreshed tomorrow. Ready to face another day of potty training.
But I still miss my son. There was no big bear hug and slobbery kiss this morning. No, “Mommy, I love you!” I haven’t heard any laughter or delighted shrieking. I feel all out of sorts not having to my usual mommie responsibilities to do. I can’t remember what life was like with out him.
I remember when my son was a baby and there were hundreds of feedings and diaper changes and very little sleeping, I was thrilled to leave him in the care of a trusted someone else, even for an hour. I would watch the clock and count the minutes until I could escape the grind of new motherhood.
Then, one day, that little blob started to smile back when I would smile. And now almost four years later we have full-blown conversations, and he makes jokes and he teases and even comforts and empathizes sometimes. Yes, babies are sweet and precious, but I love these pre-school years. It’s amazing to watch his little personality develop. It seems like every day I learn something new about what he does or doesn’t like, or what makes him tick. We don’t just have a one-sided relationship anymore. When I say, “I love you,” he says it back, and means it.
He’ll be back tomorrow, and I’ll be telling him to stop jumping on the couch and chasing the dogs with a Nerf bat. It won’t be quiet, and there will be plenty of messes to clean up. But sometime tomorrow, in the midst of all the craziness, he’ll stop for a minute and flash me one of those big, bright, sparkly smiles that fills my heart heat so full it could burst. And it will all be worth it.
