The waiting room

Using a TB test as an excuse to catch up on my much needed general health screen that has been long overdue, I made an appointment with a doctor. I have seen my OB plenty in the past 8 years, but although she has been thorough, she doesn't handle all that other stuff, like cholesterol and, well the TB test I need to have on file in order to volunteer in Sophia's Kindergarten class come Fall. 15 minutes into my wait, the receptionist announced the doctor would be at least 30 minutes behind schedule. So I decided to do some serious work on my level status at Candy Crush Saga, a game that Sophia currently can beat me at. In walks an older gentleman and two teenagers. Really rude, disrespectful teenagers who apparently just wanted attention. After learning way too much information in such little time-- all about his pulling a knife on someone, being flashed by a male family member, her rattling off obscenities to what I learned was her half brother, and then them getting into a kicking fight right next to me, I decided that was the end of me pretending they didn't exist in my world of Candy Crush. I calmly set down my game, and just looked up. They immediately stopped, mid kick, and stared right back. Not having anything to say really, I just stared. What would I say? They aren't my kids, the receptionist clearly wasn't upset by their behavior in her office. So I just made eye contact, back and forth. Until they both eventually looked away. And then I picked up where I left off, in silence. The receptionist called my name a minute later, and I gathered my things and walked into the appointed room.
I'm not sure how to connect the dots to our current societal struggles with all these young adults doing seriously bad things. I'd imagine these kids in the waiting room aren't one of those kids in the media, that they were probably just wanting attention. I like to use imaginary bubble wrap to protect myself from bad things. I'd like to think I do a pretty good job at it while my kids are with me, try to pick places to go that shield them from harm. Isn't that what a parent does? But what happens when my invisible bubble wrap no longer reaches where they eventually go? When they aren't in my bubble wrap world, or when they are faced with kids that may not have grown up with imaginary bubble wrap?
I remember before having kids that some parents are so naive, so gullible to the world their kids live in. I made a vow that I would never be this type of parent, but as the years slip by and I wrap another layer of protection around myself and family, I see that I am becoming naive, too. And it scares me. I try to stay out of current events in my writings. There are a lot of opinions, a lot of hurt, a lot of bad things that happen in the news that I just can't comprehend, don't want to process. I have a hard enough time trying to figure out how to help the children we have become responsible, respectful, caring individuals that will impact our society in a positive way. Maybe that sounds all Pollyanna of me and, yes, naive. Maybe it makes me sound a little sheltered from reality, but that's what having babies really has made me. It's made me bubble wrapped. It's made me cry at the awful news of violence and shut off the TV. It's made me wonder how we are going to figure out how to keep our children safe as they grow up.

Summer, summer, summer time

Sophia graduated from pre-K. I told myself it was no big deal, nothing to get emotional about. But then the last week of her school just kind of hit me. I kept saying, "this is the last time you are going to ______" for just about anything I could fill in the blank with. The thing is, Sophia really doesn't get it. She doesn't understand she won't see all her teachers in that capacity ever again, won't have the same class, playtime, snacks, art projects, short school day, funky outfit choices, giggles with her best friend. It all changes and she moves up to the big leagues. And with it, so do I. Both our responsibilities will increase, have more accountability for, well, for school things. We will have Monday through Friday, live for the weekends. We won't have quiet times at the Zoo where we share moments with a particular animal, just us. We won't run errands together and decide to stop for a treat at the coffee shop or smoothie store. And boy, don't get me started with how our life is going to change moving forward. I guess this sounds pretty selfish, but it's the realization that we now are growing up that gets me choked up.
On her last day of school, Sophia asked what "Summer" meant and I told her it meant she could get all messy, wear those temporary tattoos until they get all crackly and color faded. She could have face paint, make mud pies, or finger paint every day. She could walk around barefoot outside after her bath, or take her bath in the inflatable pool if she wanted to. She could go to sleep with campfire smoke in her hair and sand stuck between her toes. That's what Summer means. So we woke up bright and early on Saturday to Sophia asking first for face paint, followed by a tattoo and then for a finger paint project. The girl doesn't waste any time getting down to business.
On Sunday we came up with a list of at least 30 things off the top of our heads to do this Summer. I am already exhausted and a little overwhelmed just thinking about it. I don't let lists go unchecked. It's another flaw on the list of many flaws, er, character traits of mine. So on Monday, our official "First Day of Summer" we got working on our list. Despite our hugely ambitious list, Ava really doesn't have a Summer vacation. She still has her speech therapy and her school to attend, which I look at as a blessing for her to continue with routine. I've noticed that any hiccup in routine when she has an illness is a big step back for her, socially. I also think it will keep us balanced with routine days and lazy PJ days. Now if only both girls would understand one big defining thing about Summer is sleeping in.