The Great, Wide Open

This morning we had our "open house" for Jarrah's preschool, and she got to experience the biggest kids' room for the first time. Not surprisingly, she was fine with it. She and her friend Amelia settled themselves into a kiddie car with a doctor kit and stayed there for 30 minutes. When the bell rang for clean-up, she didn't hesitate, hanging purses and capes neatly in the armoire like she'd been doing it for months.

Her mama, however, is not nearly so adaptable. Last year I wanted to run sobbing back to Barbara and Janet's class, fling my arms around them and wail "I'm not ready to leave you!" This year was even worse. I missed Janet (different Janet) and Ilene terribly even though I knew they were next door, and felt especially strange when I saw a sign reading "Room Parents" with two names that were distinctly not mine. I have been the room parent for two straight years, and it's been such a busy August I forgot to wonder why no one had called me. Harumph. Okay, I thought I was pretty good at that job. I made all kinds of entertaining witticisms in my monthly reports. At least I thought they were entertaining.

Even weirder, someone asked a question about the after-school classes, and one of J's new teachers explained there would be a dance class on Wednesdays and didn't even acknowledge me. I started to interject that the date was still in question, but she and the other teacher said "No, it's definitely Wednesday, because..." but by then I was no longer listening because I was thinking "Wha...? Have I been fired?"

And Readers, I sort of have. I was scheduled for Wednesdays without my say-so, and now that I've complained about Wednesdays, they've decided to stick with Wednesdays and another gal who teaches Israeli dance is going to step in. At least I think that's what was discussed when I approached the director about it. I just wondered why no one had mentioned any of this to me before today--hearing about it in front of the whole room was mighty weird.

So I was a bit unsettled when we headed back out into the 100-degree noontime and not feeling very park-ish at all. I ended up inviting Robyn and the boys back to our place for lunch and playing, and that did lift my spirits. Invoking our writing collaboration, Robyn asked me "Were you married to it?" (meaning the dance class), and I said "No, I suppose I wasn't married to it." Not sure yet how I feel about the whole situation.

I know that in two weeks, Jarrah will be blissfully happy in her new (last, sob!) room at PFP, and that I will follow, digging in my heels. It's how I deal with change. I resist and resist and resist and then, suddenly, I am there, and it's good after all. Here's hoping the trend continues.