And she’s off to a year of new things! New school, new teacher, new friends. New backpack.
Same little heart that we pray is ready to learn this morning. Same awesome sidewalk drawings by the Moreheads who now drive across town to cheer Livia on.
Go, Liv, go! Second grade is going to be a great year!
Jeremy moved from Columbus, Nebraska, to Lincoln for second grade. I moved from Augusta, Georgia, to Fresno, California, halfway through second. And Livia Raine continues the tradition by moving across town at the start of her second grade year.
I’d argue she has the easiest transition of all. And yet, as her mother who knows how hard transitions are for her, I am grateful for a small move rather than a big one.
Last night we took our first steps through Livia’s new school and the differences between two elementary schools in the same city were pretty obvious to me (though I don’t think Livia noticed them much).
Size. This school is big, almost 200 more students than the last one. Parents and children were flooding into the halls and, as another mom pointed out to me, moms and dads were in attendance.
Color. There was a lot of white goin’ on last night. Liv would say peach, or pink if you’re talking about her dad. The rest of us see it as white. White white white. Now, I like white people just fine but this change is the hardest one for me. And yes, I know it’s not even *my* school so whatever. Our last school was such a mix of ethnic backgrounds—it was rich in that sense—and this new place is quite homogenous. I’ll adjust to it eventually, but you can bet I’ll be on the lookout for diversity in the meantime.
Parents. Parental involvement in this new school is huge. Everywhere I turned last night I was confronted with a sign-up sheet for something. Sign-up for an email list (or three, I really think I signed up in three different places). Sign-up to volunteer in this classroom or that. Sign-up for fall conferences. And spring. And here’s a sticky note for a reminder because goodness knows you won’t remember that spring conference date once you leave the room. I’ve heard the PTO is really active (which scares me a little) and I’ve been given notice that fundraising here is alive and well. Friends, you’ve been warned. Come to me—I mean LIVIA, cough cough—for all your wrapping paper needs this fall. We’ll hook you up.
No matter where you go, some things are the same. Academics and school staff. All across this town there are professionals who go to work each day for the sake of you and your kid. I cannot express how much I value the employees of the Lincoln Public School system and how grateful I am for the work they do. Not only did I graduate from LPS (Lincoln Southeast Class of ’96, hello!) but I’ve also had great interactions as a parent with the Early Childhood Intervention folks and the staff of Livia’s first elementary school. I have been surprised time and time again how much these professionals care for my child and how committed they are to her success as a student. One thing is clear to me: we’re all in this together. And I couldn’t be more pleased.
So here we go, diving headfirst into the 2012-2013 school year, training little people to love learning. It doesn’t get better than that.
This child of mine continues to grow and grow and grow and grow. I rub her back at bedtime and marvel that she’s the same person who I laid to bed in a crib eight years ago. Teeny arms and skinny legs have s-t-r-e-t-c-h-e-d into this child who now wears earrings and is just beginning to primp in front of the mirror. The day has come where my motherly musings on her growth can’t be lightheartedly posted on a public website for all to see. She’s at the beginnings of a new time of life, one that asks for privacy to grow in beauty and strength and individuality.
Lord God, grant us wisdom as we raise this girl to glorify you.
For Livia Day—our annual celebration of adopting Livia—we do something as a family. Though our girl really loves getting presents, we’re thoroughly presented out by the time June 26 rolls around and boy am I glad we mark the occasion with activities instead of things. This year, after hearing Liv ask to light a fire multiple times, we opted to roast s’mores on Livia Day. Nothing says crazy new neighbors quite like a fire in almost 100 degree heat. Our daughter, however, loved it. She’s become a professional s’more maker after Camp Sonshine, though in all honesty, it’s best to stand at least five feet back when she’s holding an 18 inch metal skewer with a flaming marshmallow on the end.
Lessons learned while making s’mores with our eight year old:
Some people call it “Gotcha Day”, but we call June 26 “Livia Day.” We became a family of three on June 26, 2004, when one Livia Raine Melissa Tredway was given to us. It was a crazy and beautiful and absolutely remarkable time and we love to celebrate the memory of it. Today is a day of thanksgiving and praise to the God who made us and brought us together.
Photo: Livia on crazy hair day at Camp Sonshine last week.
With miniature Drumsticks in hand, Livia and I wander the teeny creek behind our house. We admire the trees growing almost sideways from the wet soil and wonder where to put our feet so we don’t sink into the water. We lick the chocolate ice cream and crunch the cones down to nothing in the late evening light.
Hey kids, want to get in the truck?
Sure you can climb up there!
Yep, you can run around, too.
No, you CAN’T ride in here while it’s moving.
Okay. Time to get out.
Now. 1-2-3-4. Get out. Jump down. Now.
No, you can’t get back in. I’m shutting the door.
Slam.
