Saturday marked two months since we brought our kids home. In those two months, we've been steadily learning how to relate to each other, and how the rules work (which goes both ways). W has an amazing sense of humor, and I find myself cracking up at him at the most odd moments. It seems his favorite is dinnertime. That's when we all sit down together and it's W's Comedy Hour.
J is navigating the social anxiety-ridden world that is fourth grade. FOURTH! When did the mean girls get younger? I didn't have to deal with them until 6th grade. I was hoping for a little more time. The need to be popular and liked is so overwhelming. I feel the angst for her when she describes it. I remember what it was like when I was the flat-chested freckle-faced gangly girl that the other girls (and some of the boys - I'm looking at you Shawn Wirth!) made fun of. I remember feeling like I didn't belong. I remember my parents telling me it wouldn't matter in ten years. What I wanted to scream to them was that it WASN'T in ten years RIGHT NOW! And that was all that mattered - RIGHT NOW. And I find myself telling her that when she goes to apply for college, they won't ask if she was popular, or the head cheerleader, or the prom queen. They will be looking at her grades, and her community service, and her involvement.
And as we all know, I got that look. The same look I am sure I gave my mother. And in that instance, I understood. It's all I can do to simply give her advice, and things to say. And stand back, and let her navigate it like I had to. On my own. I turned out alright, and she will too.
Today we have our monthly visit with Miss Emily, our social worker. Then I have to take the kids to the doctor for their annual physicals. Seems they haven't seen a doctor in quite a while. It was the same story with the dentist. (Don't get me started).