Meet the Soprano's...
{{{HUGS}}} Jenna.
Ahh well, day two of pre-school was not quite as successful as the first. Matthew cried and did not want me to leave, he was fine till we got into the room. It was raining so drop-off was inside which makes it more difficult. Another child was crying and it was kinda chaotic and so...finally the teacher took him and I left. Tragic.
It never bothered me leaving him crying at daycare because I knew he would stop right away, before I even got to the car usually. But it was different, he knew all of them well, had been there since he was a baby with the same kids and teachers. Here he was with virtual strangers in a place he doesn't really know yet. When I went to get him he had this pathetic look on his face, I was thinking, OMG he cried the whole time. But the teacher said he stopped a few minutes after I left and was fine. I think he had that look because some parents were early and he was looking out the door for me and didn't see me right away. A little worried I wasn't coming maybe? When we pulled into the driveway at home, he said, "I dont want to go home, I want to stay at school." Hum...interesting, you were pretty worried I wasn't gonna show up and now you want to stay there huh?
We didn't get a good batch. Pre-school parents I mean. You know, you always wonder, are there potential playdate and possible couple friendships to be made. We don't know a lot of people with kids in our age group that live around here. After spending 15 minutes on the first day in the playground with the other parents, that situation is not going to change anytime soon. It was like walking into an episode of the Soprano's. Half of them were related somehow and looked like Carmela Soprano on her way to the gym or something. The giant vehicles, the clothes, the jewelry, the voices. OMG. No offence to Italians because hello, I am so Italian. Really Italian, but you'd never know it. Everyone is surprised when I tell them I am first generation, they don't believe me usually. My parents actually were born and raised in Italy and came to North America as young adults. I speak Italian, I've been to Italy many times. We are nothing like the stereotypical image of Italian you see here and I guess I just don't like that image so when I see it, it's like well no wonder that's the stereotype. This group of parents, they were the epitomy of the sterotype. Almost like a cartoon, it was unreal.
Barbara
Ahh well, day two of pre-school was not quite as successful as the first. Matthew cried and did not want me to leave, he was fine till we got into the room. It was raining so drop-off was inside which makes it more difficult. Another child was crying and it was kinda chaotic and so...finally the teacher took him and I left. Tragic.
It never bothered me leaving him crying at daycare because I knew he would stop right away, before I even got to the car usually. But it was different, he knew all of them well, had been there since he was a baby with the same kids and teachers. Here he was with virtual strangers in a place he doesn't really know yet. When I went to get him he had this pathetic look on his face, I was thinking, OMG he cried the whole time. But the teacher said he stopped a few minutes after I left and was fine. I think he had that look because some parents were early and he was looking out the door for me and didn't see me right away. A little worried I wasn't coming maybe? When we pulled into the driveway at home, he said, "I dont want to go home, I want to stay at school." Hum...interesting, you were pretty worried I wasn't gonna show up and now you want to stay there huh?
We didn't get a good batch. Pre-school parents I mean. You know, you always wonder, are there potential playdate and possible couple friendships to be made. We don't know a lot of people with kids in our age group that live around here. After spending 15 minutes on the first day in the playground with the other parents, that situation is not going to change anytime soon. It was like walking into an episode of the Soprano's. Half of them were related somehow and looked like Carmela Soprano on her way to the gym or something. The giant vehicles, the clothes, the jewelry, the voices. OMG. No offence to Italians because hello, I am so Italian. Really Italian, but you'd never know it. Everyone is surprised when I tell them I am first generation, they don't believe me usually. My parents actually were born and raised in Italy and came to North America as young adults. I speak Italian, I've been to Italy many times. We are nothing like the stereotypical image of Italian you see here and I guess I just don't like that image so when I see it, it's like well no wonder that's the stereotype. This group of parents, they were the epitomy of the sterotype. Almost like a cartoon, it was unreal.
Barbara
posted by Barbara at 9:34 PM
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