N's 4-year Checkup... and thoughts on raising girls
N's 4-year checkup was way back in the last week of August (which was almost a month after the quiet birthday party when she inched closer to Really Big Girl). I'm just about as behind as I've ever been on checkup blogging.
Here are the stats:
Height: 40 inches (55th percentile)
Weight: 34 pounds (40th percentile)
She did great at the checkup-- she's physically healthy, drew a detailed picture of a person (Daddy, complete with beard) when asked, and conversed easily with the doctor. I'm sure the doc got way more information (TMI?) from our little Chatty Cathy than she does from most kids.
Because she's so big and so capable now, the questions the doctor asks are no longer simple, like "can she sit up" or "can she identify these pictures with words" or "does she walk in a straight line". Now we're answering more complicated questions, like "does she help out at home" or "is she adjusting socially to school". We've been instructed to help her memorize her address and phone number, and teach her about not going places with strange people, and where "private areas" are on her body-- because the assumption is that she's leaving home more often now. She has more opportunity for encountering new people. She's venturing out into the {dangerous} world a little bit; she isn't under the constant supervision of mommy or daddy anymore... she's growing up.
I've been taking N to her new school for a couple of weeks now, and every day I watch her like a hawk for subtle signs that she's not enjoying herself. I worry so much that she won't fit in or make friends easily, or that she won't be able to get to know her teachers, or that she won't be learning the things she needs to learn. We have a pretty fabulous preschool experience last year to live up to, you know.
Truth be told, I think she's making the adjustment beautifully. Sure, she doesn't talk readily about any BFFs yet, but she's only been in school for about three weeks. I'm pretty sure we were about midway through last year before she talked about her classmates as friends. And many times, when I ask her in that hyper-mom sort of way, "How was school today?" with the expectant look on my face, she'll reply "I don't remember." Then she'll throw her backpack on the couch and be off to play with her sisters. But when I really think about it and remove the panic, I think that kind of behavior is less about her not adjusting to school, and more about the fact that she's focused on her own plans and ideas right now, and doesn't want to make the effort to tell mom about her school day. Sort of teenager-like, eh? Usually, later on a fun story about school will come out unprompted, or she'll casually say "Today I colored with Danica and she liked my purple butterfly," over supper. When she does speak about it, it's as if it comes really easily to her... like it doesn't even occur to her to be shy or afraid. Either that or she's just really good at hiding her timidity.
As N and I were unpacking a box the other day, we came across scads of my old notebooks full of stories and journals that I kept as a kid growing up. (I guess you can tell from this blog that I enjoy writing? I've been an introverted journaler from day one!) I was re-reading part of a journal from sixth grade, which of course was full of things like, "I wish I was more pretty or more popular" and "I wish I had a boyfriend like all the other girls" and "I like such and such a guy but he doesn't notice me"... etc.
(It was also full of weird, geeky and/or funny things like "nicknames for all of my teachers"... there was one teacher I called "Hairy Clap", presumably because he was hairy and clapped to get our attention. Now that I'm a teacher myself, I sometimes wonder what nicknames my own students have for me. But I digress.)
I grew up in the best home I could have asked for. I had complete confidence that my parents loved me and supported me. But in the sixth grade, that counted for nothing. I was still about as insecure as the next person. Oh sure, Mom and Dad loved me. But I couldn't be certain that anyone else did.
It occurred to me as I was reading those journals that no matter how much I love my girls, they will still crave the love and acceptance of others, and be disappointed when they don't get it. My love won't be able to stand up to the barbs of the world, no matter how fiercely it flows.
I suppose it is every mother's wish to save her children from the pain of the world, and it just isn't possible. It's natural and normal, really, that our children seek the approval of others beyond their parents. And I suppose having your parents' lifetime love on this journey (even as a sixth-grader who doesn't appreciate it) is better than doing it alone. I am glad that we can provide that safety net for our girls-- a shoulder to come home and cry on, if necessary-- but I still pray that God will protect them from too many hurts.
And so I hope that N keeps her pre-school nonchalance as long as possible... this ease she has conversing with just about anyone... this preoccupation with her own ideas and daydreams, and seeming unconcern of what anyone else thinks of them. I don't know if these things are a product of her age or her personality, but I do know they're protecting her... and I hope they continue.
Here are the stats:
Height: 40 inches (55th percentile)
Weight: 34 pounds (40th percentile)
She did great at the checkup-- she's physically healthy, drew a detailed picture of a person (Daddy, complete with beard) when asked, and conversed easily with the doctor. I'm sure the doc got way more information (TMI?) from our little Chatty Cathy than she does from most kids.
Because she's so big and so capable now, the questions the doctor asks are no longer simple, like "can she sit up" or "can she identify these pictures with words" or "does she walk in a straight line". Now we're answering more complicated questions, like "does she help out at home" or "is she adjusting socially to school". We've been instructed to help her memorize her address and phone number, and teach her about not going places with strange people, and where "private areas" are on her body-- because the assumption is that she's leaving home more often now. She has more opportunity for encountering new people. She's venturing out into the {dangerous} world a little bit; she isn't under the constant supervision of mommy or daddy anymore... she's growing up.
I've been taking N to her new school for a couple of weeks now, and every day I watch her like a hawk for subtle signs that she's not enjoying herself. I worry so much that she won't fit in or make friends easily, or that she won't be able to get to know her teachers, or that she won't be learning the things she needs to learn. We have a pretty fabulous preschool experience last year to live up to, you know.
Truth be told, I think she's making the adjustment beautifully. Sure, she doesn't talk readily about any BFFs yet, but she's only been in school for about three weeks. I'm pretty sure we were about midway through last year before she talked about her classmates as friends. And many times, when I ask her in that hyper-mom sort of way, "How was school today?" with the expectant look on my face, she'll reply "I don't remember." Then she'll throw her backpack on the couch and be off to play with her sisters. But when I really think about it and remove the panic, I think that kind of behavior is less about her not adjusting to school, and more about the fact that she's focused on her own plans and ideas right now, and doesn't want to make the effort to tell mom about her school day. Sort of teenager-like, eh? Usually, later on a fun story about school will come out unprompted, or she'll casually say "Today I colored with Danica and she liked my purple butterfly," over supper. When she does speak about it, it's as if it comes really easily to her... like it doesn't even occur to her to be shy or afraid. Either that or she's just really good at hiding her timidity.
As N and I were unpacking a box the other day, we came across scads of my old notebooks full of stories and journals that I kept as a kid growing up. (I guess you can tell from this blog that I enjoy writing? I've been an introverted journaler from day one!) I was re-reading part of a journal from sixth grade, which of course was full of things like, "I wish I was more pretty or more popular" and "I wish I had a boyfriend like all the other girls" and "I like such and such a guy but he doesn't notice me"... etc.
(It was also full of weird, geeky and/or funny things like "nicknames for all of my teachers"... there was one teacher I called "Hairy Clap", presumably because he was hairy and clapped to get our attention. Now that I'm a teacher myself, I sometimes wonder what nicknames my own students have for me. But I digress.)
I grew up in the best home I could have asked for. I had complete confidence that my parents loved me and supported me. But in the sixth grade, that counted for nothing. I was still about as insecure as the next person. Oh sure, Mom and Dad loved me. But I couldn't be certain that anyone else did.
It occurred to me as I was reading those journals that no matter how much I love my girls, they will still crave the love and acceptance of others, and be disappointed when they don't get it. My love won't be able to stand up to the barbs of the world, no matter how fiercely it flows.
I suppose it is every mother's wish to save her children from the pain of the world, and it just isn't possible. It's natural and normal, really, that our children seek the approval of others beyond their parents. And I suppose having your parents' lifetime love on this journey (even as a sixth-grader who doesn't appreciate it) is better than doing it alone. I am glad that we can provide that safety net for our girls-- a shoulder to come home and cry on, if necessary-- but I still pray that God will protect them from too many hurts.
And so I hope that N keeps her pre-school nonchalance as long as possible... this ease she has conversing with just about anyone... this preoccupation with her own ideas and daydreams, and seeming unconcern of what anyone else thinks of them. I don't know if these things are a product of her age or her personality, but I do know they're protecting her... and I hope they continue.
Oh, I remember the Hairy Clap, as well as a few others! It cracks me up that you wrote them all down : )
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