When I was in seventh grade I told my mom that I needed to go to Berkeley. I remember the look on her face. She was perplexed, shocked, and curiuos. "What for?" she asked. "I need to buy a reed for my oboe and Mr. Pacini says that the music store in Berkeley sells the best ones." I answered. "We'll talk about it later." she said. I knew that she had to think long and hard about this one. Should she let her eleven year old daughter do something like this by herself? What if something happened to her? Maybe we should go together instead?

I took out the Bay Area maps and figured out which BART exit I needed to get off on and how many blocks I would have to walk to get to the music store. I counted my allowance and checked to see that my bus pass was in the right place.

My mom let me go that Saturday afternoon and I made it to Berkeley on my own. On the way back home I remember feeling proud and empowered. Everytime I played my oboe I was flying free. I couldn't wait to plan my next adventure.

So here I am. Twenty one years later and I'm still pulling out my maps and making plans. I'm a long way from Berkeley yet I have those same feelings everytime I try something new.

May I be as daring and smart as my mom to encourage and support my daughter to spread her wings and fly free.

I started back at work two weeks ago.  I was apprehensive about going back. My three months with my baby was such a precious time.  We began getting to know one another over those three months.  I felt confused about my decision to leave Cassidy at home all day long.  I wondered how I would manage staying organized in my classroom and also at home.  I worried that I might miss out on all of the important milestones with my daughter.  I was concerned that all of my energy would be spent on teaching my thirteen five-year-old students instead of continuing to get to know my daughter.

Once I started back teaching kindergarten I realized how much I had missed being there.  It took a few days of getting reacquainted with my classroom, colleagues, and students.  But after the first week I was back in the swing of things.

When I get to school in the morning I feel a buzz of energy rush through me.  I love the freedom and creativity of designing and carrying out activities to support the needs of my young learners.  I enjoy watching their self-confidence grow over the year.  At the end of the day I am tired.  There is no denying that.  But I am rejuvenated when I leave my classroom at the end of the day.  I walk home accompanied by the beautiful mountains surrounding La Paz and I feel excited to meet the wide-open blue eyes of my daughter.  She waits for me to get home.  We cuddle and unwind and I hear about her day.  She’s not talking yet, but she tells me about her walks in the garden with Elba.  She squeals about her toys and her trips to the market to buy vegetables.  We play with her blocks, cook dinner together, give her a bath, and spend quiet time together before going to bed.

Some people decide that starting back at work again is not for them.  I wasn’t sure how it would be for me.  But when I lay my head down on my pillow at night I feel at peace.  My body, mind, and soul are tired in such a healthy way.  As I drift off to sleep I know that I have given all I have to give. 

I've started taking my baby to a play group. There are between six and eight parents who get together with their children once a week. We pretend that the play group is for our children. To give them the opportunity to interact and socialize, but we all know what the real reason is. This is a parent support group. We get together to talk and share concerns that we have about being parents and caring for our children. The children play for a few hours each week. Each at their own level. Some play puzzles or build train tracks while others color. My two month old daughter watches everyone and gets passed around to loving arms. The parents share stories and questions: "Fabrizio screams when I put him in the tub for his bath every night. What can I do to make bathing more enjoyable for him?" "Sarah isn't very social. Should I put her in preschool so that she learns to make friends?" "Mark isn't interested in learning how to use the bathroom. How can I encourage him to use the toilet instead of diapers?" These exchanges with other parents and sharing of ideas help build confidence. Everyone needs some kind of support whether it be a play group, a close friend, a grandparent, a counselor, a blog like Jambav, or a teacher. I have gone through periods in my life when I thought I could handle things alone. I didn't need help and I wasn't going to reach out to anyone. These were the times when I needed the most help. I needed to talk, to bounce ideas off of others, to know that I wan't alone. I recently returned to school to attend parent-teacher conferences. Miguel's mom sat in my room with her husband. She looked nervous. This conference was different. It was a Student Study Team meeting. This day had been on her mind for a long time. We waited a few minutes for everyone to arrive- the principal, counselor, resource teacher, and my substitute. We shared our observations of Miguel. He is easily distracted and often off topic. He struggles with communicating in English and Spanish and complains about the length of the school day. It wasn't long before Miguel's mom was in tears. "I'm just so afraid that Miguel is autistic." she cried. We passed her the Kleenex and shared our ideas with her. The label wasn't our focus. What we wanted to know was how to better meet Miguel's needs at home and in the classroom. We see him making progress with direct instruction from the resource teacher. He plays with friends on the playground. He looks for help from his classmate, Pablo, when he doesn't know what to do. He responds well to predictable routines. We decided that Miguel's family would go to the States to get their son tested. We suspected some food allergies and hearing loss. When Miguel returns in January he will join the preschool class. This will help make his day shorter and less stressful. This meeting provided Miguel's family with the support they needed. Miguel is not alone and neither is his family.

Our eyes met. Both of us glittering with love as we studied each other. I felt her getting ready to talk to me in a quiet and spectacular way. Love and tenderness for this little person rushed through me. Cassidy's body curled with excitement. She let out a little coo as her cheeks puffed up and her eyes crinkled. My daughter smiled a glorious smile for the first time. I smiled back. No words were needed for this profound social interaction between mother and daughter.

Last night we left our daughter, Cassidy, with her Bolivian caretaker for a few hours so that we could go out to dinner with friends. I was nervous about leaving her at home and not taking her with us. What if she got hungry or hurt in some way? Elba, her caretaker, is completely trustworthy and responsible, but I couldn't help but worry. Going out without Cassidy was important for a few reasons. My husband and I have been so occupied with taking care of a newborn that we hadn't had much time together these past few weeks. In two months I will be returning back to work and need to get myself and Cassidy used to spending time apart little by little. We had a nice evening out and were actually able to relax and enjoy ourselves. We came home after two hours and Cassidy was sound asleep in Elba's aguayo. It was a beautiful sight to see our daughter being cared for and carried in this traditional Bolivian way. An aguayo is a piece of brightly colored fabric that is folded so that the baby can lay comfortably on your back. The fabric is tied around the shoulders and the baby is carried in this way so that your hands remain free. Walking around La Paz you see many women carrying their children in this traditional way. When I saw this I felt so good about our decision to raise our daughter overseas. She will get to know wonderful and kind people, like Elba. They will be different from her. They will have less than her. They will have more than her. They will speak other languages. But she will learn that in many ways they are just like her. She will learn to appreciate these differences and recognize similarities between herself and others. We want her to know that the world is a big place full of interesting people, places, traditions, and life. She will travel and explore that world. She will make friendships that cross boundaries. She will learn languages. She is Cassidy Olivia born in Bolivia.

Watching my husband become a father has been one of the most amazing parts about having a baby. I always knew that Steve was kind, loving, understanding, gentle, funny.. To see all of these qualities directed towards our daughter make them stand out even more. Last night we gave Cassidy a bath. She normally struggles with this time every night. She doesn't like to be naked and begins to cry when we undress her. Some nights we rush through the bath just to get the crying and screaming done with. Last night was different. I saw the natural father in my husband shine bright. He held Cassidy close to his heart and introduced her to the warm water little by little. First her toes and then her little legs. Every time she would get scared and cry he would bring her back to his chest and hold her tight until she relaxed and felt secure. When he washed Cassidy's face it was gentle and loving. He talked to her to let her know that he was right there. Soothing her every fear. He seemed to know exactly what to do. As if he had done this a hundred times before. Seeing all of this in my husband gives me a profound appreciation for my own father. It makes me wonder what qualities he had before becoming a father that became more pronounced when he had a daughter. My father has always played such an important role in my life: Encouraging me to rise to challenges. Giving me strength during hard times. Being silly with me. Showing his tenderness. Providing important limits. Modeling creativity, writing, and art... These type of fathers are easy to recognize in my classroom. They are the ones who drop their children off at school and linger a few minutes to play and meet friends. They ask questions during parent-teacher conferences and share stories when they visit the classroom. They send notes to school about what is going on at home. They share anecdotes. Fatherhood is such an important job. It takes being present like my father and husband are.

Routines are a basic part of my kindergarten classroom. Every morning we start the day by reading the schedule.
The morning goes something like this:
8:30 Morning Meeting.
9:15 Snack and Recess.
9:45 Shared Reading.
10:15 Reading Workshop.
10:45 Writing Workshop.
11:30 Lunch.

The times and activities are posted daily on a chart and the students soon learn how they can use the chart as a tool to see what activities are coming next. They know what to expect. It is repetitive and predictable. It keeps the classroom organized.

My newborn daughter does not follow a routine. At times she is hungry every hour and other times she waits four hours between feedings. She falls asleep when she is tired and cries when she wants to be held. She lives in the moment and she is teaching me to do the same. Our schedule changes day to day. It is unpredictable and unorganized. Something I'm not used to and work so hard to avoid in my kindergarten classroom. As our daughter grows we will guide her towards more structure and routine. We'll start with bedtime.

It will look like this:
Eat.
Take a bath.
Read a story.
Go to sleep.

For now, we live in the moment.

I heard her first cry in the surgery room. It was loud and strong. My heart melted instantly. "It's a girl!" the doctor said. She cried again. This time a little bit louder. I cried with her. All that waiting and now she was finally here. Steve cut the cord and the doctor brought her to meet me. Her arms and legs danced. Our eyes met and I kissed her toes. Tears of overwhelming joy. A moment I will never forget. Welcome home, baby girl.

I had hoped to have a natural birth. We have been taking lamaze and parenting classes for the past three weeks. Some minor complications have developed and I will have a C-section instead. Tomorrow we will meet our baby for the first time. Tomorrow we will become parents. It feels like Christmas or the first day of school. We won't sleep very well tonight. Many worries about the surgery, but also about the bigger picture. Will we be good parents? Will the baby be healthy? Will we know what to do? Will we be able to handle such a big job? Teaching kindergarten feels like a big job, but at the end of the day the children go home and your responsibilities end. The students linger in your mind and heart, but you rest easy because they are home with their families. Today your job is done. Tomorrow you'll see them again and it will begin again. Caring for a baby who is completely dependent on us for his/her basic needs feels bigger than anything we've known before. Tomorrow we will do our best. That is all that we can promise.