Josh and Matthew, along with Josh’s grandmother, went to Santa Fe this past weekend to see his sister graduate from college. I had to work this weekend so unfortunately was unable to make it - congrats Jera! - and so on Friday morning, I drove the three of them to the airport, and they went off. I was sad, but I did not cry!

This weekend was difficult - I had a hard time falling asleep on Friday night, and then last night I went to bed too late because I was caught up in watching outtakes from Whose Line Is It Anyway? on youtube. I ran a lot of errands yesterday and also did my part to stimulate the economy (which we haven’t gotten our check yet, but look at me, being a good citizen and stimulating things!).

Today, I went to pick them up at the airport and finally they arrived and I pulled up in the car (I was driving Josh’s grandmother’s car this weekend) and hopped out. Matthew was standing behind the suitcase or stroller, so Josh nudged him onto the sidewalk and I called out to him. He was so excited and happy that he started running immediately and screaming with joy. He hugged me non-stop for five minutes and did not let go of my neck. He also peppered my face generously with kisses and squealed every now and again and man oh MAN was that the best feeling EVER. I hated seeing them go, but the homecoming - that was amazing. If I ever before doubted this boy’s love for me, today’s display definitely proved me wrong, and I’m glad for that.

I know I wrote about post-partum depression before, but every time I see Matthew displaying intense affection it makes me sad and happy at the same time - sad that at the time I had a hard time seeing Matthew display this affection in the ways he knew how to then, and sad that I was so hard on myself. But I am also happy, because the struggle to get here - while I do not recommend it - makes me appreciate what I do have ten times over.

I know parenting isn’t for everyone. I do wish, though, there was a way I could bottle up this boy’s pure ecstatic joy and give everyone a taste of it. It really, really made my day.

Occasionally I read Ask Moxie, but grudgingly so; her posts on sleep got me through the night (har, har) when Matthew was a baby. I started my sourness on her when that Dangerous Book for Boys came out and she came up with her own list that made my eyes roll madly. But she’s still in my RSS feed, and then today’s post made my eyes fall out of my head.

link

The fall before you want your child to start (and here they start either at 2 1/2 or 3 1/2), you start requesting applications. (You should already have done your research on which schools you want to apply to through a combination of reading the NYC preschool guidebooks, researching online, and talking to everyone you meet at the playground.) Some schools have applications downloadable from their websites, while the ones that really do enjoy being competitive force you to call and get on a list to have the app mailed to you. (If you call too late and they’ve run out of applications, too bad for you.) You fill out the application, which can be as simple as filling in the facts and writing a few two-paragraph descriptions of your child and your educational goals for your child, or as extensive as six one-page essays on any number of topics.

Insane. Starting the competitive pressure crap so young. And not to mention classist - I can’t imagine a situation where the single mom with 2 jobs is doing all of that to get their kid into a preschool.

It starts here, people. When people complain about affirmative action and how students are coming to school ill-prepared and unable to compete - this is why: because we’re starting the rat race when some kids are 2 1/2. Insane.