It's Friday after five full days--after six months of nothing much--and wow, I have three exhausted little people. They haven't protested a bedtime one night this week. Here's the rundown on what I observed.
At pick-up the second day Kate jumped in my arms exclaiming, "Mama!" She was relieved I was there to pick her up, still a bit unsure of her new schedule and when she'd see me. Once in my arms she got a bit weepy and whispered in my ear that she'd been looking for me alllll day long. I sat down and cuddled her on my lap and assured her that I loved her and would always come back. Very poignant moment.
James also ran to me, hugged me, and said how happy he was to see me. He held it together in school but in the car he used a lot of big facial expressions and sad words to tell me about all the hard times in his day. At one point his voice got very sad and he said his teacher was, "not nice to me" because she wouldn't let him look at the dinosaur book. Lots of feelings in that ride home and very cuddly that night.
Jane. Oh, Jane. First, Jane didn't even see me at pickup. She was totally focused on her teacher and trying to process all the instructions her teacher was giving and being totally confused about left/right up/down and she looked stressed to the point of freezing up. By the time she figured out she was being told to come to me (standing 5 feet away with Kate and James hugging me and making all kinds of noise) she just walked over, zombie-like and blank faced. She hugged me because I initiated it. On the ride home she recited, nearly verbatim I suspect, every instruction her teacher had given her that day. My word, that girl must've been working hard every second of the day just to cope. Poor thing.
And from the 2nd day to the last, that's pretty much how the whole week went. The affection of Kate and James only underscore how detached Jane is. There's no emotion there. She's a robot struggling to learn the rules so she can follow them precisely. Her parroting back of what I say at home has reached new levels. I casually told her to bring over a stool so she could stand at the sink and brush her teeth like I do every night. Instead of just doing it, she announced loudly and tonelessly, "You want me to bring over the stool and stand on it so I can reach the sink to brush my teeth." Uhm, yeah, girl just get the stood already, as you have a million times before.
They're all sleeping a solid 12 hrs every night. I suspect that tomorrow, Saturday, they'll sleep in and go as much as 14 hours. For the very first time ever, in her whole life, Jane skipped dinner tonight because she said she wasn't hungry. This from the girl who eats six times a day. So, that can't be a good sign. She'll have the whole weekend to rest up, though.
I think next week will have some rough spots. Either Kate or James may have a really sad drop off or two as the newness of being in school has worn off and they begin to grasp how long a full school day is.
The question is what Jane will do when she reaches her breaking point. She can't be a perfect robot every second forever. At some point she'll be too tired to continue paying hyper-attention to every detail from her teacher (interestingly, she knows nothing about the other students, not even the name of the girl who shares her table).
Will she react in anger? At home she does passive-aggressive pissy little things just under the radar but quite hateful. Will her teacher see what's going on?
Or, will she tune out? Will she just give up and stop caring? That would be even worse, honestly. It's so difficult to bring a child back once they stop caring because they are afraid of caring.
Maybe it'll be a slow, normal fade. Maybe she'll just begin to relax and acclimate and enjoy herself. That would be amazing. I know she could love school if she could just relax. So hard to convey that to an almost 5 yr old. I'll need to think of some story to tell her this weekend that conveys this point.
Interestingly, her baby talk is a constant right now. I don't even address it anymore. I've observed that the happier she gets (playing exuberantly with J and K) the more she regresses. She sounds like a 2 yr old. It feels cruel to interrupt such happiness. I think I have to just grit my teeth and wait for her to grow out of it. Honestly, I suspect she's taking on Kate's and James' identity. She imitates even their speech pattern and inflection. So, she will probably only leave baby talk when Kate naturally grows out of it.
Instead of making me angry anymore I just feel sad. One more sign that she cannot let herself have her own identity. So much fakeness. Constant vigilance. Hyper-need to please. I know it sounds weird to say it's hard to live with someone who wants to please you all the time. But, I keep thinking about futuristic movies or cartoons with robots. The Jetsons lived with their robot, Rosie, but she wasn't a member of the family. They didn't love her.
Perhaps the strangest thing I've learned is how much we actually do want our own family members to fail. I'd never have guessed that the most infuriating, and alienating, thing a person can do is be perfect all the time.
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