blogger profile

Teaworthy

Litigator, Mediator, Writer, Photographer

Originally from Kentucky, Tiffany discovered Skirt! while studying English literature at the College of Charleston and continued following Skirt! while in law school in Georgia. Now practicing law in Lexington, she is thrilled to be part of the Skirt! community where she blogs about being mom to a ...

READ MORE

Back To School

“What if my friends are mean to me?”

This was not the question I was expecting from my three-year-old last night, before she went to sleep. Today is her first day in the preschool room. Same building. Same playground. Just a different room with new teachers and a few new friends. But in her small but expanding world, it might as well be on a different continent, where she has no currency, explained in a language she doesn’t speak.

I took her with me to buy the things required for today, the supply list a glimpse into the expectations of the new class: four toothbrushes, Oral B Stages toothpaste, a nap bag the child can pack and unpack themselves, a digital thermometer, sunscreen, two changes of clothes, a comfort object for nap, a lunchbox with cool pack, and so on. The toothpaste required is pink and she worries that her teeth will turn pink as result. I try to keep a list of things like this to explain to her teachers, but I know that if I were to give them a list of things they should know about her, they would look at me half amused and half annoyed, sort of like telling the labor and delivery nurse that you have written up a birthing plan.

She’s at an age when no amount of gear or school supplies, or color coordinating outfit will make her feel any more comfortable. She is on her own. As we all are.

“What if they tell me to go away?”

These are her fears. Secretly, I believe they are all of our fears on some level, deep in the center of our earths, down in the magma and unexplainable stuff.

I couldn’t just say, “they won’t be,” because, let’s face it, sometimes kids are mean. I told her there are 18 kids.  Someone will want to play. If one of your friends needs space, give it to them and try to reach out to another kid.  But I know that it’s sort of crap advice – not really something that’s easy to apply, even in adulthood.I think of Spock’s recommendation on all things: deliver information in a cheerful, but confident way. But I’m still figuring it all out myself.

I can’t explain to her that friendship is one of the greatest gifts of life, but at the same time, one of life’s biggest heartbreaks. Or that the closer you are to someone, the more it hurts when they don’t want to play anymore.

As I searched for something special to put in her bag to remind her of all that she loves and of all who love her, I thought about how hard is must be for people preparing their children for war. We are all constantly letting go as parents, but what do you possibly send to comfort them for that which is unknown and completely terrifying?

A favorite professor (Susan Farrell, PhD) introduced me to Tim O’Brien’s The Things They Carried, a fictionalized account of the men of Alpha Company serving in the Viet Nam war. It’s a haunting read and I brought to it many questions I had about my father’s service in the same war, particularly since one of his duties as an officer was to collect a soldier’s belongings to send home.  O’Brien is also a veteran, writing to try to process it all, and his stories mention both the tangible and intangible items carried by the men: a photograph, a can opener, a sewing kit, an M-16 assault rifle, grief, chewing gum, salt tablets, terror, Kool-Aid packets, C rations, a Bible and so on. Things like Kool-Aid and gum, home comforts, childlike comforts, are what I remember most about the book. And the feeling that ultimately we’re all children, often in a strange place, trying to survive. Some of what we carry is out of necessity, some out of habit, some guilt, and some for comfort.

I read a childhood favorite, A Chair For My Mother, to my daughter, forgetting that the reason why they are saving tips and change for a new chair is because of a catastrophic fire loss which left their home in cinders. Oops. This raised tons of questions from her about why the fire started, where it started, why the firefighters couldn’t put it out in time. My husband laughed from the other room at my attorney answers.

“I’m not sure about the cause and origin.”

“I bet they had a good homeowner’s insurance policy.”

I try to explain that possessions aren’t the most important thing and she holds on to her Bear a little tighter. My wish is to help her feel brave, confident, loved and supported in all that she possesses on the inside, but that is a challenge for me, too.

One day last winter, we walked under coats, scarves and hats into a little knit shop in town (Magpie) where the owner was sitting on the couch near the window, knitting with her feet tucked up under her. The shop is clean and minimal, yet cozy.  The walls are lined with cubical shelves that her husband built for her.  The cubes  hold tightly bound stacks of yarn, each in a different shade. It is like walking into a lifesize 64-pack of Crayola Crayons. There’s a long wooden table in the middle of he room where you can learn and comfy chairs near the window. The wooden shelves and lighting give the room a feeling that it is always early morning in a clean kitchen bathed in warm sunrise light.  The day is just beginning and you have all the time in the world.  I bought pink and yellow soft bamboo yarn that day.  The owner patiently taught me how to begin making mittens for my daughter. Now, when I pick up the half finished mittens, I think of that day. I think of the warmth and color and the excitement of learning something new: a feeling I try to remember and carry with me on scarier days in unpredictable times.