Continually amazed at a person's ability to change.

I said this when my children were infants, and I am still being reminded of it daily--change is possible. One day they can't sleep through the night, and one day they can. A year ago I was strolling David to Rose's school. A year ago David said he was never going to kindergarten. He was staying in Kangaroo room forever. He didn't want to grow up. He didn't want to die. Over the summer, he had a couple crying fits at the thought of kindergarten. But with much coaching from us about how he already knew tons, what the day was like, he started to get intrigued and even eager. People could come up to him and say, "Are you looking forward to kindergarten?" and he would look down on the ground and nod. Today, he told us he was scared. He held John's hand. He looked down and chewed on his finger, but he walked in all by himself.

Sad to leave this life stage

To be fair, I've only been in this life stage for three years: David in preschool, me with several hours a week to write. But I had a groove going with this stage. I knew where I had to be when. I had time for shopping, exercise, even getting to the bank. And as much as I relished the days he would listen to books on cd for hours or played with his legos without me, I suspect I'm going to miss just being with him. I'm not feeling that right now frankly, but I suspect I'm going to miss all the hugging and snuggling. It's going to be a visceral loss. When Rose went off to kindergarten I lamented that I was going from full-time parenting to interstitial parenting. I'm less important. I'm less involved. I'm less.

No more double dipping

What? I have to get gas on my own time? I have to shop when I could be writing poetry? I prided myself on never doing anything on my own time that could be done with a child present. Why should I do the laundry when we could be doing the laundry? It might be slightly slower to cook banana chocolate chip muffins together, but it turns a chore into play for him and doing my job (parenting) for me. Now, I just have chores.

So, what's this I hear about working?

As many of you know, I'm starting a new business: ATC Consulting. I'm going to be a freelance writing consultant--poetry workshops, tutoring, editing. I figured with all the time I would have with David in school, I should be gainfully employed. Now, I'm getting some job offers, and I'm sort of stunned. Oh, I have to think about what to wear, what to say at the interview, where to park. I'm not freaking out about the actual work so far, but the transition, I seem to have added yet another transition to my life.

commit to poetry

I'm terrified. I'm thrilled. I'm raring to go, and I'm finding ways to avoid doing the real work. When I'm not working for money, I'm being a poet this year. I was a poet for the last three years. I mean, the 6 or so, actual hours I got a week were great. But now, even with the chores, I can probably get 10-12. I suppose I'm going to have to write my self-hatred journal entry first. You know, the one that goes: I'm boring. I have nothing to say. I'm lazy. My work sucks. . . Once I get that out of the way, I think I'm going to be able to produce. I plan to go places like the zoo or the art museum and write there. I'm going to the UW library and do in depth research on subjects I want to write about. I'm going to just rack up serious hours, which is what it takes.

He's ready

For all that I've been focusing on me and my feelings, I am thinking about David. And I am thinking he is ready. Yes, we know he's ready academically. He can write at least 10 words including David, Star Wars, and love. He can almost read. He can definitely add, subtract, tell you the name of the bone in your ear, and ask probing questions. We know he's ready physically. He can ride a bike, swim, run fast, and do the monkey bars. And I am now convinced he is ready socially. At the kindergarten open house last night he did hide in the bushes for the first 15 minutes, but when it came time to meet the teachers, he could function. He followed the rules! He asked Ms. Norton if she would help him find just right books. It's all going to be just right.