What now?

Summer shouldn't be over yet. We haven't had the lull of boredom. I've only clutched my knees rocking back and forth in the corner chanting some dribble about finding a happy place, a handful of times. I have been dreading the start of the new school year. Anxiety for me and anxiety for the kids -which I feel for them, so more anxiety for me. It is the year of change. The kids started the American School here last November. For various reasons, we thought it in their best interest to switch schools this year to a nearby, Spanish bilingual, school. So among the changes of language, location, and friends, they will start wearing uniforms, eating a Spanish lunch (a big deal for my picky eaters), attending school from 9-5, changing clothes publicly (also a big deal for one of my very private children), and swimming lessons at school. There are a couple of changes which cause even more stress. Gavin will be skipping 2nd grade and going straight to 3rd, in which math and Spanish (equivalent to an American English class) will both be taught in Spanish. Our only consolation is that it's a new school so there are only 13 students in his class and a few others in similar language situations. The biggest change and most heartbreaking and stress inducing however, is (tears are falling freely now), Cohen. Our Numero cuatro, our happy catalyst, our last little birdie, will be leaving the nest for THE WHOLE DAY!

After being denied several times by the headmaster, I put my foot down and told them Cohen WOULD be attending half day, versus the required full. The Spanish school system starts kids at 3 years old, so in their eyes, Cohen is a year late and well able to manage a 9-5 day (he's still 3 for a few more months). I've also heard of the level of (or lack of) nurture given -but that's just here say. So I've gotten approval to pick him up after lunch for the first 3 days. Baby steps -but that's better than nothing.

So why are we sending him? He needs interaction. Needs that I just can't fill, try as I might. Because the Spanish start school at 3, everyone ends up sending their kids so that they have playmates. Americans too. Everyone is in the same bind because everyone is moving here at different times. We went to a mostly British playgroup last year, but it maxed out at 2 and a half. There just weren't any older children. A first or only child wouldn't have the same need. But Cohen has a posse. He has 3 siblings very close in age that he runs and plays with all day. He needs noise, excitement, running in circles, and chaos. I just don't cut it.

So selflessly, we are letting him go. But I am green with envy of those that will be basking in the sparkle of his eyes, infected with the contagiousness of his giggle, and hoping that his cute misunderstanding of words are not lost in a language barrier.