Reasons folks have given me for Em's preschool anxiety:


She's too young for preschool.

Something "bad" is happening to her there.

I should have been staying at home with her all along.

I should have had her in public day care all along.

It's the wrong school.

We should skip preschool entirely.

She should go all day, every day.

It's just an adjustment period.

It's normal.

The other kids really are mean to her.

One of the teachers spoke harshly to her.

We're pushing her too hard.

We should talk to her about it more.

We should talk to her about it less.

Her schedule confuses her.

She's shy.

She's manipulating us.

It's habit.

Some of those are patently wrong, some probably form part of the problem. But it's continuing to improve. She had a major breakdown at swim class Tuesday night (had to be taken from me, crying, into the pool), a few tears Wednesday and none last night. (On a side note, she's learning SO much in class. It's great. I wish we had a pool.) Tuesday and Wednesday nights were really bad, sleep-wise. She called us back over and over after we put her down and woke multiple times in the night. Adam said she was like a newborn, only with words. Last night, she went down without a peep and woke once, which she still does now and then.

Dropoff at school yesterday was again traumatic -- she crouched in a corner of the car, screaming, "I don't WANT to go to preschool! Not for one minute!" (We'd told her Adam would be there in an hour to drive her to a field trip.) But by the time the teacher carried her to the porch, she'd stopped. There were tears as soon as she woke again this morning, but we were able to jolly her out of them. And I kept them at bay in the car until we turned down the school's street (she'd been weeping the whole ride lately). As soon as the teacher picked her up, she stopped.

So, improvement. Her days seem to be going well, so we're bearing the brunt of her anxiety at home. She'll have three days with me in a row this weekend, so I'm a little worried Tuesday will be dramatic again. But if it is, we'll deal. I'm working on being patient with her, and every tiny sign of progress makes it that much easier. And I can smile and nod at every piece of conflicting advice I'm given. Thanks to you guys who offer the good stuff -- it tends to be people I actually KNOW who give the bad. And I know everyone means well. Even if they imply my brilliant, precocious kid is a dolt and I'm a bad parent for subjecting her to this.

Despite breaking into tears within minutes of waking this morning, Emma had a better day. I met with her teachers yesterday, and we came up with some strategies that helped her get through her day.

All our advance planning -- buying stickers for a book she'd make at school, lots and lots of talk -- didn't help this morning, though. She was upset right off the bat that it was a preschool day, and it took all we had to get her up and ready. We'd get her calmed town, and the sobs would begin again. She cried the whole way to school and when they took her out of the car. (Not going in to drop her off was part of the plan.) Luckily, it was an Adam morning, so I was spared that.

When I picked her up, though, she was actively playing with other kids. (One of the things the teachers and I discussed was helping her make friends.) She could name five or six girls she'd played with today, and told me in the car, "I only had one friend. You need a lot of friends at preschool!" The director told me she'd been upset when Adam left (which I of course knew), but they'd gotten her calmed down fairly quickly and involved in other activities.

And as important as getting to know other kids, the teachers each spent more time with her. She hadn't been able to name any teachers before, and today they worked on that. When I walked in the door, an aide I didn't know immediately started telling me how improved Emma's day had been. I'm grateful the staff seems to be communicating -- all of the teachers knew the plan, not just the ones I'd talked to.

I certainly don't think the trials are through. But any progress is a good sign at this point. She even started crying last night at her first swimming lesson of the season, repeating the same routine she had about school, "But I don't WANT to to go to swim class!" It took some convincing (and a lollipop bribe) to get her in the pool, but she had a wonderful time. She was sticking her face (or at least parts of it) in the water in no time, didn't complain once about the temperature and did everything the instructors had to do. She'd look around now and then to be sure we were watching, but she didn't ask us to get in once. And being the oh-so-strict mom I am, she knew she still had to eat a good dinner even though the sucker was her reward.

It's weird that we're suddenly the parents of a kid who cries easily. Adam pointed it out this morning, and I noticed it at the pool last night. Emma's usually so good natured and easy going, I felt very uncomfortable while she wailed in her swimsuit. Unless she scraped her knee, she really doesn't cry like that in public. Or, at least, she didn't until recently.

But we got through swim class, and after the first fit of the day, through another day of school. Later in the week there's a field trip with dad (a little worried about that, because last week she knew he was coming later in the day for a party, so she pretty much cried till he arrived) and a toy reward if she continues to do well. And if she doesn't, at least I feel like we're doing something to help.

In Stephen King's Insomia, little malevolent guys run around with scissors, cutting "life cords" or some such of Derry residents, who then of course die.

Now, I don't think I'm about to keel over. But I do feel like someone's been chopping during my sleep -- at my fuse, which is getting shorter every day, and at my nerves, which are ragged and tatttered.

The Brooks' household is just in chaos of late. Emma's having serious problems adjusting to preschool, to the point where she starts to cry if the subject even comes up. She only knows the name of one kid, and that's probably because of us. The little girl befriended Emma on the day we visited, and Adam learned her name. She was there the first morning, so Adam reintroduced them. And Emma never mentions anyone else, and really only this girl if we ask specifically. She says she has no friends; in fact, she told us the other day that the other little girls don't want to play with her and say they don't like her. It makes my heart ache. As near as I can tell, she doesn't have any friends. She's often playing when we arrive, but it's by herself.

She doesn't know any of her teachers by name, either. And maybe all of this is normal. It's not like the kids are shaking hands and introducing themselves. But Emma clearly feels like she's not fitting in, even though she's always happy enough when we pick her up. Though she does tell us how sad she got a few times during the day, how she cried and so on.

But she is happy when we get there. She tells me what she did that day, after numerous pointed questions, of course. She never, ever, mentions playing with anyone else, though.

So, today I'm going over to meet with some of the teachers and see if they have suggestions about dealing with the transition. And I'll feel better when I've gotten to know the adults who are with her during the day, I'm sure. Summer is more casual than the "school year," so there's been less chance for me to spend time with them. And there's less structure, too, which may be part of the problem. Emma's a routine-oriented kid, and I suspect the fall schedule, which is a little more organized, might feel more comfortable to her. Unfortunately, we have to get through June and July first.

Which could be hard. In addition to the tears, Emma's started to yell at us. On one hand, she's clingy and loving and wants me to do everything for her. On the other, she's defiant and barks orders. It's just this nasty cycle because I know she wants and needs the attention from us. But she's been such a good-natured kid all her life, so I'm finding the attitude really hard to deal with. I know compared to most 3-year-olds, this is nothing. But it's so out of character for her. And the more she yells and refuses to do what I ask, the more wound up I get. So I'm alternately angry and on the edge of tears, too.

I know it's just a phase and we'll get through it (though we know one mom whose kid cried every preschool day -- and begged not to go the rest of the time -- for two years). But I haven't been this stressed out since she was a newborn. Add all this mess to the fact that she's calling for us five or six times after we put her down and waking more frequently at night (yes, I know that's probably all attributable), so we're all tired; she's got a lingering cough and congestion (can probably point right at preschool for that, too); and it's been raining for what seems like months, so we can never get outside ...

Oh, and her swim classes start tonight. First time in the pool without us (with an instructor and a small group of kids, of course). And even if the rain does stop falling, I'm sure the water is frigid. Likely, class will be moved inside, to where the pool isn't heated, sunlight or no. That's going to be lots of fun for everyone. And there's a high chance of rain every day this week.

If we can just get through July, California is calling. Assuming I don't run off between now and then.