Summer Lovin'

Jarrah started camp this week. She finished her first semester of preschool last week, so there's been no hiatus, which I'm so thankful about. ;) She would have attended camp at her preschool, but they are in demolition/construction mode this summer (for the attached synagogue, not the school itself) and hence have shut their doors for the first time. Through the on-line rumor mill, I heard that there was another synagogue preschool in the neighborhood, so it was an easy decision to sign Jarrah up for the same days she is used to going.

The camp is very nice, a preschool palace, even. The playground and classrooms are huge, the equipment sound and shiny, and there's even a long Astroturf runway where they set up kiddie pools, bubble machines and "jumpy castles," depending on the theme of the day. Because Jarrah attends Tuesday and Thursday, she has swimming on Tuesday, and "science and cooking" on Thursday. Both the science and the cooking seem to involve mud, which I suppose if you're two is the way you want them to be.

On the first day, I learned that I am more like my mom than I ever imagined. David and I were greeted by three smiling teachers, but my eyes were darting submarine sonar-style around the room to take in the smallish, tottering children. "What's the age range in here?" I inquired, with what I hoped was neutral politeness. Turned out Jarrah was indeed one of, if not the oldest in the room. Hmmm. At her other school, she's the very youngest in her class. She's also a giant for her age. She is used to 3-year-olds and her language skills seem to rise to meet theirs with every passing day. I perused (more like snatched) the class roster, which did not contain familiar names. "Aren't there a few kids from her class here this summer? What room are they in?" Turns out they were next door, in the 3-year-old room. I'm not sure why, since several of them are mere months older than Jarrah. I suggested she might be more comfortable with them. There were some darting glances, a bit of scrambling, and then the word came down that Jarrah was welcome to step next door. I snatched that roster, too. No fewer than four names from her current preschool class appeared on the page. Jarrah was the same height as the other children. I had a tiny tremor of nervousness for having been so demanding--would it come back to bite me in the ass?

When we left, Jarrah was crying. "Will you be be available around, let's say, 11:00, if the day seems to be getting too long for her?" asked the director. "It won't happen," I smiled, my confidence restored. I called 30 minutes later. "Hi, I'm calling about my daughter, who was crying when I left?" "I'll go check on her," said the secretary cheerfully. "Call me back in five minutes." I called back. "She's painting a picture with a friend and smiling," she said, "Go enjoy your day." When I picked her up, both her teachers said, "She had a great morning." I was vindicated. I had been a meddling mom and it had paid off. My mom was always marching into my various schools, demanding that I be moved or re-tested or whatnot, and it used to mortify me. Why couldn't she just let the teachers do their job, like everyone else's parents did? So it surprised me that the craving to meddle was instinctive. I had to speak up for Jarrah, since she couldn't do it for herself.

Jarrah is loving camp, and came home wet and filthy both days. The first day she rhapsodized about the "fimming pool," and today about how "very, very hot" it was in the jump-jump. She didn't seem to have eaten much lunch both days, and today her socks were missing. "I have no socks," she said serenely as I was searching for her backpack. "Sure you do!" I said, not looking at her. But when I turned around I could see her statement was purely factual. "Where are they?" I asked. "By the bubbles," she said. No one could find them, though. That's okay. A pair of socks is a small price to pay if she's having a good time.

Speaking of good times, this week we discovered the Tierrasanta Rec Center Pool. I was yearning to get wet on Wednesday (I'm a Water sign, after all) and didn't feel up to lugging all our gear to the beach. Then I remembered that in my carefree childless days, there had been a great deal of unnecessary screaming in the shallow end when I'd swum laps at the Morley Field pool. Perhaps, I mused, we could now become part of the screamers. I called around, but none of the local municipal pools had morning hours. I vaguely remembered hearing that the Tierrasanta pool was a kiddie paradise, and I'm happy to say that whoever said that did not lie. The Children's Pool is a sort of mini-theme park, with no edge (hence, no falling) no water deeper than a two-year-old's thigh, and a big slide with waterfalls smack in the middle. Jarrah and Yea-Yea splashed themselves silly, and I hurt my wrist from all the patting myself on the back. We have discovered another playdate with great allure! I like to update my options regularly.