on being a mother of a kindergartner...

i thought something about writing tonight, even though it is after one in the morning, and i should go to bed. i don't necessarily know what i should write about, but i'm just going to let it go... flow...

biscuit starts kindergarten tomorrow. that is a funny story. last year she also started kindergarten at a prestigious private school. we were awarded a scholarship, bought the uniforms, and were ready to go. she was academically set to start. she was already wanting to write everything that she could and was more than ready to begin a year in school. however, we had just started a new family, moved out of a house with grandma (something she'd known her whole life) into a less inviting home, and so much more! there were just too many transitions at one time. and she was only four, and yet, not the youngest in the class. nonetheless, we decided that then was not the time.

even before last year i have been constantly praying for wisdom and discernment regarding choices to be made for the family, especially for biscuit. i've given thanks for God's power to move in our lives, almost unseen, to bring the right people in, take the wrong out, and transform others still to be followers of Christ, whether with our help or not. i've given thanks for His involvement in preparing places for biscuit... in church, in school, in life, in general. and i have seen His work over and over again. His blessing and favor on her life!

so when it came to decide what we were doing this year, why was i so discouraged? i would love to homeschool. but i know i'd lose my patience with her, and she with me. i know of what she is capable, i don't baby her if she acts up or goofs around. she doesn't like that. i want her to be serious because i know that she can be and because i know what she can do if she is serious... others don't. and yet, others seem to get more out of her by allowing her to be a child, first and foremost.

i also know her need to be social. we don't live in a neighborhood where there are kids. she doesn't see other children unless we're at church or she's at grandma's. and to be quite honest, i'm not a huge fan of any of them. and i know that i'm not going to be a fan of the kids in her class, either. because, while i love children, i really don't like how they are taught to behave (knowing full well, that i don't raise an angel). i just don't want her to not be social and thus wind up disliking and finding so much fault in people, like i do. this is something i want to remedy in myself as well. become less of a hermit (which will only happen if we're not homeschoolers, at least for this year).

so, homeschooling option gone, said presitigious private school back in the running. only this year, we're on the waiting list. still. so, we opted for public school. and that is where we stand. i will drive her to school in the early afternoon and see her begin a new chapter in her life.

i need to trust that God has answered prayers and that He will continue to give me peace surrounding this decision. and while she may be the only child reading in her kindergarten class, there are still plenty of things she'll learn and from which she'll benefit. i need to trust that this is the place that God has prepared, and that the leaders there are ones that He has put in place for a reason (one not necessarily for my daughter, or my will, but His). i need to trust that there is a purpose in all He does, including His use of me, biscuit, and the rest of the family.

i need to trust the peace that God has given me. to not doubt it, question it, or test it. but to know that it may only be for a season, and that it may not. to be confident in who He made her to be, and confident in what He gave to me in order to prepare her. she will do well, she will more than succeed, excel, or thrive! for He is good... all the time!

on the problems associated with naming babies...

when i was pregnant with biscuit i was in denial, read previous post. i thought that being pregnant was a very slight possibility (in fact, i told the doctor that it was a 2% chance... i never was really good with math) but it wasn't anything that i wanted to verify in order to meet, face to face, a consequence of an action... a simple, one time, thirty second action.

at any rate, one morning i awoke in my mom's bed, as i had taken to sleeping with her again. she was at work and the sun made its way into bed with me, warming me and waking me. and as my eyes opened my first thoughts were of what would become my daughter's name... eva siobhan... eva, pronounced ay-vah, which in hebrew means "mother/giver of life", or simply, "life" (as opposed to ava, which in latin means "bird"... big difference, and yet, still uplifting) siobhan, pronounced shih-VON, a celtic word for "god is gracious".

i thought... well, if i am pregnant, and it is to be a girl... that will be her name.

yet, it didn't prompt me to quickly test my hypothesis. no, i waited a bit longer... until i thought that something more serious was wrong with me.

thankfully, i didn't have to discuss the name. i was in it wholeheartedly and wasn't about to share that responsibility with someone who wasn't. however, i made every effort to be inclusive of said someone. i even went to see him. i remember one particular time i had on a maroon shirt, definitely not maternity, lined with pink piping. it was beautiful and flattering, especially on a pregnant belly. i had on a mid-calf-length corduroy khaki skirt, with scalloped edges, and beneath that, pink tights to match the piping on the shirt (what fashion does to memory, or memory to fashion).

i sat on a bench in the vestibule of the place where he works... where i quit months before with the notion that, prior to concluding positive pregnancy, the stress was making me physically ill. (try explaining a disappearance like that to someone who doesn't speak your language. what is left but to assume that it was done on purpose, malicious avoidance?) back on the bench i notice a tattoo on the outside of one of his arms. black letters. i wouldn't have ever noticed it before, we didn't know each other that well. i asked what it was. his response, in broken english: his mother's initials, m for maria, e for eva (at which point, light shot from my finger tips, i could feel it), and r for her newly married last name, not the same as his.

i knew then that my baby, that biscuit, was my baby girl. and that she had already been given a name, not by me, that would represent who she was, is, and will be. it would include where she came from and what joy there is in why she was made. for she was the giver of life for me. she opened doors, and still does, to the ways in which God is ever so gracious, ever so merciful, loving, kind, and giving.

so, when she was born, there were no questions, that was just who she was. praise god.

and now, with this little one... i've had nothing similar in visionary naming. no dreams, no voices, no light... no glimpse as to the gender. nothing stands out... and, to top it off, i have to actually concur with someone this time. it isn't my way or nothing at all. and, truth be told, it should be the mister's way, regardless of whether or not i agree. however, i take into account meanings, and connotations, and then there is nothing left to see eye to eye on, except that we'll know when we know... even if it means that the baby will be five days old.