Category Archives: kindergarten

Remembering

She, the 5 1/2 year old, is shuffling across the floor wearing one of my slippers (I’m wearing the other slipper) and her nightgown. She’s holding a tiny cat on a tiny bag with a large pink plastic ring on her thumb. Her long curly hair is a twisty mess. She’s talking talking talking. I’m wondering how long I’ll remember this charming moment and how long it will be before it becomes a part of the aggregate charming moments (the antidote to the tantrum moments). I’m pretty sure Evernote (where I store all sorts of ideas and stories) won’t exist in 20+ years. Servers and companies and technologies die, become obsolete, so I’m pretty sure it’s all up to my biology to hold onto bits of stories to recant for Lucy when she’s an adult. I don’t want to remember everything. Just a good mixtape for her. I try to focus all of my attention on some moments to help remember it later. One of my parents once told a story about me-as-a-child, in recent years, at a dinner party. It was a story about my sister, not me. I’ve been so perfectly unacknowledged (we have our own don’t ask don’t tell in our family) for so many years that I didn’t correct the story. Moya and Lucy have sharp memories, so between the three of us, SOMEONE will remember.

Crowdsourcing parenting tips

Yesterday marked a year since my grandma died.  After she died, we talked with Lucy about how we keep dead people in our lives by remembering them, telling stories about them, looking at pictures of them, and sometimes seeing them in our dreams.  Lucy was a big fan of her great-grandma.  We took a vacation with my grandma when Lucy was 2 years old — an adventure in balancing the quick (Lucy constantly running) and the slow (grandma) — and Lucy loved the undivided attention that my grandma always devoted to her.

Lucy near her great-grandma's grave in Hopewell, Oregon (March 2009)

After Martin Luther King day this year, Lucy talked about death and how we communicate with and remember dead people.  She wanted to know why a dead person’s birthday is celebrated (MLK) if the dead person isn’t around to eat cake and blow out candles.  Then she wanted to know if we could celebrate her great-grandma’s birthday (since we celebrate MLK’s birthday) and asked if she could send her a letter telling her that she loves her and misses her.  I was stumped — have her write a letter and send it to the cemetary?

I asked for suggestions on Twitter and Facebook (because everyone knows that the answer to any question is on the internet).  I got some great ideas from my brilliant friends (who I didn’t identify here to protect privacy, but if anyone wants attribution for their idea, just poke/ping me):

  • Write the letter and save it. I kept a journal as a kid to keep my neighbor up to date when he died suddenly.
  • Since she’s already felt it in her heart, she’s already sent it
  • The cemetery might work, and you can call first and let them know it’s coming so it wouldn’t be returned to sender. If Lucy’s already ok with the concept that greatgrandma is “dead”, you could address it to the http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dead_letter_office
  • Maybe you could say that when her greatgrandma died, her body went away but she’s still around in spirit because of how much she loved her family, kind of like how Lucy can feel your love for her even if you’re not in the same room. Since she doesn’t get mail any more, the way to send her a letter is to write it out and then burn it and when the smoke rises up, Lucy’s message will be carried to that place where her greatgrandma can read it.
  • 1. Mail it to her with no return address. Greatgrandma c/o The AFTERLIFE 2. Go to the beach or some place special and read the letter out loud to her and then burn it or bury it
  • Be pragmatic and tell her the truth — that life is without meaning and there is no point in anything…just kidding :-)
  • Oh Lucy I wish we could write to the dead but they are gone so they cannot get mail, but we can always keep them in our thoughts and deeds, like Dr King. And in a way they are always with us.
  • Ask her if she remembers what it was like before she was born. Tell her that’s where Grandma is.
  • I like the idea of her writing an actual letter. Maybe you could find a place meaningful to share it? My mom and stepdad have two trees (one for his mother, one for one of his daughters) and my mom has a birdbath as their spots. Maybe Lucy can find something that becomes a sharing spot and a box she/you can make that is her mailbox. That way, she can write the letter, she knows her grandmother won’t literally receive it, but if she can symbolically send it.
  • I also like the idea of her writing the letter. But I’d hold onto it in case she wants to see it later. No point lying about doing that either. Perhaps you can say “You should write the letter and when you are happy with the words, we’ll put it in a special place and if the letter can get to her, it will. Someday you can go back and look at them too. The important thing is what you want to say and how you feel because even if your great grandma gets the letter, she can’t just write back.”
  • It’s a lovely idea to write the letter and then save it for her to read later. If she really wants to send it……then I guess you have to be honest and tell her that nobody really knows where people go after they die. It’s one of the great mysteries of life.

As of today the letter hasn’t been written and she hasn’t brought it up again, but Lucy remembers everything and I know she’ll ask about it again soon.

I get the best advice from the internet.

More of “never ever ever ever ever ever again”

She begged to go skiing.  She skied perfectly. Then she said she’s never ever ever ever ever ever ever going skiing again.  She also recently said:

My hair is a jacket for my ears.

Sometimes I have to just close my eyes so I can think.

I’m not yelling, I’m whining.

She’s a keeper.

The 5-year-old is not a person

Lucy the 5-year-old has been talking about her imaginary friends for years.  Recently she told us about Alice, and Alice has been around a lot lately.  A few days ago: “Alice my imaginary friend is 1 month older than me. She’s 6 years old. She can’t hear you. And there are also different colored dots that I catch in my hand.”

This morning on our walk to school the sidewalk was crowded with all of her imaginary friends.  There were 100 blinking lights in different colors  everywhere all around us, and I learned that they go to space and back and they walk by blinking.  Alice was also with us.  She always wears same clothes, pink dress and pink pants, because she doesn’t have a home, and she doesn’t need to wear rainboots or a rainjacket because the rain doesn’t touch her. Even though she’s older than Lucy, she’s the same height.

All of these imaginary friends, Alice and the blinking lights, are allergic to grownups so grownups can’t see them.  Even 9-year-old’s can’t see them because 9-year-old’s are almost grownup.

I asked Lucy if she was ever an imaginary person and she said, “I’m not a person. I’m 4 things – cat, shark, sloth, dinosaur, but not a person. My friend Oscar is a vampire.  He’s not a person either, just a vampire. I’m a cat because I  can lap up water out of a bowl and swallow it.  I’m a shark because I can swallow an orange slice without chewing it. I’m a sloth because I can hang upside down without falling.  I’m a dinosaur because my feet stomp loudly on the ground. I’m not not not a person. Sometimes I’m a person, but not today.”