Middle of the week

Todd and I started school on Monday. It's Wednesday now. The challenge of keeping all the balls in the air has kept me away from the computer.

On Monday morning we put on our pretty clothes, took the time to look extra pretty in case we were introduced around and then came up from Stafford to Arlington. After a smooth entrance, your overly eager father and I waited around while the woman charged with watching over us came in late that day. "Early is on time, on time is late."

Your dad is over in a speaking, reading and writing class that is covering materials miles over my head. Our third day of Arabic School and I've got an hour of lab time that is languishing while the instructors try to decide where to put me. I have a grasp of the letters and how to connect them, but my vocabulary is so small and limited that we are having trouble conversing. Walaa is a good teacher, but I get frustrated when I am trying to say a sentence and she interrupts mid way to correct me. I'm not that interesting in English, so trying to think of things to say in Arabic is stretching my abilities.

You guys are fine with Sumeyye. I come home to new art projects and fascinating structures around the house. I miss hanging out with you guys. The morning cuddles and the smooches before you get on the bus or head into your classroom.

We come home in the afternoon to find you three running around and happy as clams. On one hand I am thrilled to see you so happy and carefree. That is the success we were looking for. But on the other hand, I wish you missed me a little more. There, I've admitted it- your mom is a selfish, selfish woman.

I know that this time in class will be a good investment for us. I know that you are growing up and can do just fine without me. But I do miss you.

We walked around our first day trying to find the right rooms and teachers- I remembered Gracie telling me that it was going to be all right. She told me that my teacher was going to be really nice and that I was going to make friends with the kids in my class.

So far, so good.

Dear Clothes Designer

Dear Clothes Designer,

First of all, thank you for thinking of putting spandex in my denim. For that alone, I love you. School is coming up for me next week and it has been brought to my attention that those beloved jeans and a few fun shirts have been my wardrobe for the last five years. They would probably not be appropriate for the Foreign Service Institute, so we went hunting.

Okay, technically, we went out to Nordstroms and found a "style consultant" who got to dress me up like State Department Barbie and had endless patience while I nixed endless numbers of your creations. Here are just a few of the things I would like you to know:

The current trend of feminine detailing, ruffles and flowers on shirts and jackets is wonderful. The ones that suit my taste are the more subtle, but I can appreciate the more daring and colorful. However, I am not paying eighty dollars for a T-shirt that looks like you just threw on all your leftover embellishments and no woman wants the huge ruffle up and around her neck making her look like bozo the clown.

Real women have hips. I could go nuts talking about these new "paper sack" dresses with the huge wrap around belts, but I think you should just take away the lesson that real women past the age of 19 have hips and a little saddle bag. We do not like all the attention on them.

Almost everyone wants to look and feel good. Could you please not mess with our sizing? Last year I was a size 8 or a Medium, now I'm a 12 or an Extra Large in some stores. I can still fit into those eights and mediums, so I know it's not me or my waist that is changing.

I know it's not exciting, but if you make something and sell out of it, could you please make it again the next year? A different color or with a small twist, maybe. Yes, this is more business than design and art, but if it will get me my favorite sweatshirt in a new color, I'd like to try.

Washable is good. I'm willing to front load the thirty bucks I would probably spend at the cleaners if you'll just make it out of something I can wash it myself. There's a lot of peanut butter and tomato sauce in this house and I'd be willing to take it up a notch if I could actually clean my clothes.

There's probably more, but I can't think of it right now. I'm sure I'll see something at Christmas and want to chat some more.

All the best,

Kristi Lyons

Much ado about nothing

So apparently I'm a worry wart who borrows trouble.

Kindergarten was fun.

Lunch was fine.

Mrs. Haasen is nice.

Physical Education was fun. You need shoes with no holes. (??!!?)

You sat next to a nice girl whose name you can't remember.

But the best, the COOLEST part of your day was that the bus has no booster seats or seat belts. When I expressed my concern over the safety of this, you told me that it was okay because Mrs. Kim drives really slow.

Well, okay then.

September 7

You and I need to talk about this Kindergarten thing. The whole-growing older-getting taller-becoming-more-independent-leaving-Mommy thing. Because I'm not sure it's good for us. And I know I'm not ready.

You go to Kindergarten tomorrow morning. Technically, this morning. Because I'm not sleeping tonight. At least not any time soon.

I know that you're a great kid. You're smart, good hearted and funny. You're a leader and don't have any qualms about speaking up when you see someone else your size picking on a smaller kid. I love that about you.

Your father and I have met your teacher twice, briefly. I've done my best to find out information about Mrs. Haasen and her cohort, uh, teacher's helper, Mrs. Borden. Talked to other mommies, daddies, the school, a few substitute teachers who know them. I may or may not have also asked the cop across the street to check them out...

But I don't know these ladies and I'm worried that they don't know you yet. I'm concerned over the fact that I know almost nothing about these women to whom I am entrusting my life's most important and valuable work. I'm stressing about how delicately they will handle your body, your mind and your spirit. Your spirit most of all.

I'm sending you to Kindergarten in the morning despite my fears.

Because you seem to have none. I know that you will be successful. I know that you will have a wonderful time and enjoy this adventure. I know that you are going to learn more and see more than I could provide here at the house. I am so excited and terrified for you.

But I'm still not ready.