Loose Ends

The Boss is falling apart. This morning we couldn't find the sharing stick (the harbinger of the Montessori version of "Show 'n' Tell"--it comes home with each child the night before s/he is supposed to bring a story or item to share with the class) and then, on the way to school, she told her carpool partner that there is no Santa Claus.

The sharing stick is still missing and I am clueless as to how The Boss came up with the idea that there is no right jolly old elf. I have to admit that she is not the only one falling apart. A three year old cannot come undone without help. We are one thread unraveling together.

We are always at our most frayed on Mondays. It pains me to fall back into patterns of organization after the weekend's formless family time. For me, disorder is the norm. We thrived during The Boss's infancy and toddlerhood, when nothing forced us into a schedule and there were no demands other than the ones we put on ourselves. She napped when she felt like it. I strapped her into her carseat and went out when the spirit moved me. We rarely had to be anywhere at a certain time.

Now The Boss is in pre-school from 8:30 a.m. to 3:00 p.m. every weekday. We need consistent mealtimes and bedtimes. We need to wake up with enough of a buffer on the clock to eat breakfast and make lunch. We usually make it, but we are always hanging by that thread. I am not doing well. She is not doing well. She is Scroogey in the car, doing things like telling poor, unsuspecting four year olds that there is no santa. How does she even know that?

I guess adjustment just takes time--which is, ironically, the thing I am missing. It's the single most important lesson parenthood has taught me: there's just not enough time, and the moments we do have go by too fast.

In a way, that's its own consolation. We'll find the sharing stick eventually, and we'll figure out this Kris Kringle confusion. We'll have ourselves some holiday. In the quiet of one evening, I'll lean back against the kitchen counter and I'll heft a sigh.

We'll be on to the next set of problems before you can say Happy New Year.