School and a new evening ritual
Sep. 3rd, 2010 02:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pegkerrSchool has resumed, and the pressure has ratcheted up for the girls. As I've mentioned before, it's an International Baccalaureate school, and the work is tough and challenging. Delia doesn't have to decide yet whether she wants to do the IB track, but she's taking the tougher courses that at least leaves that option open. Fiona is an IB diploma candidate, and what's more, she's also in the throes of the college search/choice process.
Budget cuts and the school's reputation have made the school extremely crowded. English classes have forty students in them. Fiona's Theory of Knowledge class is supposed to be a small class of fifteen students. It has forty. She couldn't even get into the on-line gym class she needs to squeeze into her schedule.
Fiona's also stressed and sad because she has few of her friends in her classes--they all ended up in the other sections. They're in different lunch periods, too. She also did NOT finish her summer homework before school started, so she's already behind. Delia's stressed because she knows so few of the other students. Most everyone from her middle school ended up in a different high school.
So we were talking about what we could do to lower the stress level, and I impulsively offered to give the girls a back rub each night. I love getting professional massages. I'm no expert, but I'm willing. So each night, they come and flop on my bed, I put a dollop of baby oil in my palms, turn my iTunes on something soft and soothing, and get to work.
I think it's been a big success. It gives us an opportunity to connect each day. I'm obviously doing pretty well as an amateur masseuse, because after I work on their backs for five to ten minutes, they're so bonelessly relaxed that they have difficulty peeling themselves off the bed. Practically drooling into the pillow.
My time with Fiona feels particularly poignant. I can feel the strong muscles in her back like taut bands as I work on relaxing the tension, and I think of how it felt like it was just yesterday that she was a mere infant in my arms. Fuzzy and soft and full of drool. Maybe it's the smell of the baby oil that brings back that memory so sharply clear. Now she is a strong and beautiful woman on the cusp of leaving home. I want to protest, no, not yet. It's too soon. I'm not ready. But of course, my readiness to give her up is certainly not the point. So I massage her back, trying to pour my love for her into my touch, trying to help reduce the stress and give her a good night's sleep. I had read all the research about baby massage when I was a new mother. How remarkable that the fact that it works on older children escaped me until now.
I'm glad I've put aside a little time each night to let my touch tell my daughters I love them.
Budget cuts and the school's reputation have made the school extremely crowded. English classes have forty students in them. Fiona's Theory of Knowledge class is supposed to be a small class of fifteen students. It has forty. She couldn't even get into the on-line gym class she needs to squeeze into her schedule.
Fiona's also stressed and sad because she has few of her friends in her classes--they all ended up in the other sections. They're in different lunch periods, too. She also did NOT finish her summer homework before school started, so she's already behind. Delia's stressed because she knows so few of the other students. Most everyone from her middle school ended up in a different high school.
So we were talking about what we could do to lower the stress level, and I impulsively offered to give the girls a back rub each night. I love getting professional massages. I'm no expert, but I'm willing. So each night, they come and flop on my bed, I put a dollop of baby oil in my palms, turn my iTunes on something soft and soothing, and get to work.
I think it's been a big success. It gives us an opportunity to connect each day. I'm obviously doing pretty well as an amateur masseuse, because after I work on their backs for five to ten minutes, they're so bonelessly relaxed that they have difficulty peeling themselves off the bed. Practically drooling into the pillow.
My time with Fiona feels particularly poignant. I can feel the strong muscles in her back like taut bands as I work on relaxing the tension, and I think of how it felt like it was just yesterday that she was a mere infant in my arms. Fuzzy and soft and full of drool. Maybe it's the smell of the baby oil that brings back that memory so sharply clear. Now she is a strong and beautiful woman on the cusp of leaving home. I want to protest, no, not yet. It's too soon. I'm not ready. But of course, my readiness to give her up is certainly not the point. So I massage her back, trying to pour my love for her into my touch, trying to help reduce the stress and give her a good night's sleep. I had read all the research about baby massage when I was a new mother. How remarkable that the fact that it works on older children escaped me until now.
I'm glad I've put aside a little time each night to let my touch tell my daughters I love them.