Grace

Independence

Yesterday morning Grace, Mum and I took the shuttle to New York and went to Terence’s 41st birthday party. It was a lovely celebration, complete with heartfelt toasts and hilarious musical tributes. Grace and Hannah loved seeing each other and I got to spend some time hanging out with the divine Miss Margaret.

At 2:45 we returned to Laguardia where I put Grace into a town car. With a complete stranger. The driver, Gina, was utterly lovely. She gave me her cell phone number and set Grace up with Sun Chips and water in the backseat. The car had Hadley’s carseat all installed and ready to go. I was slightly anxious about sending Grace off for an hour with a stranger and lingered as I said goodbye. Finally, impatiently, Grace said, “Mummy, I’m ready to go. You can shut the door now.”

Okay. Is there such a thing as too independent?

Mum and I then proceeded to sit on the tarmac at Laguardia for a while due to some stranger “tanker” incident in Boston harbor. The silver lining of this was that I was still on the ground when Grace arrived with Hadley. I picked up, “Hi! Is she there?” and heard back, “It’s me, Grace.” As though I was not sure who Grace was.

Grace and Charlotte had a ball swimming and playing and I got to see them all on iChat last night. Grace’s smile was literally ear to ear. I know she is having the time of her life and she is in for big treats today with her godmother. Tomorrow morning John will take her through security at Laguardia and send her off on the shuttle by herself, and I’ll receive her at Logan. It is indescribably special to watch Grace’s genuine, affectionate relationships with Hadley and Charlotte grow. I know that these are the kinds of experiences that she will remember all of her life.

Saturday June 13

Yesterday was a beautiful sunny Saturday. Grace, Whit and I headed to Cradles to Crayons for the morning. The kids were just great: we were assigned to sort toys which is basically as tempting as you can get. They had to comb through a big pile of donated toys and sort them into boxes by type. Whit did a little playing here and there but they were both very earnest little volunteers. I was proud.
We then met Charlie, Max, and Kristin at a playground for pizza. Grace found a way to literally fling herself around in circles – the picture doesn’t really capture it but wow it was really entertaining to watch. More hilarious still was her drunken crooked walk when she got off. I got super sunburned at the park – very marked farmer tan on my arms and a bright red nose. Really attractive.

Then it was home for quiet time in their rooms and a new Jetsons movie. Dinner with Nana and early to bed. Today was a big day that I’ll write about tomorrow!

Mathmateking

Last night Whit was crying in his bed. This is uncharacteristic, because usually he barges right out and lets me know just what is going on. I went into his room and found him sitting up on the bottom bunk, clutching his monkey, awash in tears.

“What’s wrong, Whit?”

“I … miss … my … friends!” he managed to choke out, with difficulty, between sobs.

I was so touched I grabbed him and wrestled him down in a hug. He was so damn dear in that moment. We talked about his friends and I have since made a playdate with one of his besties for tomorrow. I tucked him in again and left the room.

A few minutes later I could hear him bawling again. I went back in.

“Whit, what’s going on?” I suspected somewhat less authenticity to these tears.

“Mummy! I am just not cheered up yet!” the master manipulator said, failing to hide his smile behind fake sobs.

A few minutes later I heard Grace creep out of her room.

“Mummy? May I have some extra time with you like Whit just had?”

Doesn’t miss a thing, that one, and sure doesn’t let Whit get away with a single teeny thing that she doesn’t also get.

“Sure.”

I climbed into her bed and wrapped my arms around her. I asked her about her day. Without answering me, she turned to me in the dark and asked,

“Mummy? Tomorrow night in Marion is it OK if Whit and I sleep in the trundle beds together?”

“Yes, of course, Gracie.”

“Oh, good,” she breathed a sigh of palpable relief. “You see, tonight Whit was doing some really good mathmatecking so I told him I would give him a treat.”

“You what?”

“I told him he did such a good job mathmatecking I would give him a treat.” She looked at me, rushing on, “Oh, it’s okay, Mummy it’s not like I gave him candy or anything. The treat was to share a room with me in Marion. And he was so excited about the treat!”

I can’t decide what to pursue, the odd word “mathmatecking” or the fact that Grace presents as a treat sharing a room with herself. Door A wins.

“What is mathmatecking, Gracie?”

“Oh, it’s when you do a really hard math problem. I asked Whit was 400 plus 400 was and he said 800!”

“Wow, really?”

“Yes. Well, I helped him a lot.”

Of course.

Farewell kindergarten

First day of kindergarten, September 2008. Alert readers know this was not the actual first day of kindergarten, which Gracie missed because she had lice. But it was her first day. I anticipate telling that story at her rehearsal dinner.

Last day of kindergarten, June 2009. She looks so grown up to me. On the last full day of school, the day before this picture was taken, the teachers did a slide show in the classroom as part of the “graduation.” They showed each child in September and then again in late May. When Grace’s picture came up one of my friends turned to me, gasped, and said, “She was a baby!” I don’t see the huge change but I know that one has taken place. I suppose it’s the way you don’t notice changes when you live them daily – it’s only the perspective of distance that allows us to grasp transformations and metamorphoses.

Of course this is true in many aspects of our lives – we don’t see patterns and changes as they are being set and then are startled when the full extent of the difference is made real to us. That is, however, a post for another time.

For now it’s Gracie Russell. Six and a half. Leaving kindergarten with new, real friendships, a passion for computers and math, and a combination of confidence and uncertainty that I find both charming and utterly too close for comfort.

I love you, GBP.