Imagery Work

As a working mother, I like my life. I like my work, and I like my kids, and most days, I like being a mother.

However, there are definitely short falls to this life. Mainly, I don't pick Aidan up from kindergarten. Aidan is in kindergarten until about lunch time, then he gets whisked away to go to Chinese school. I like this arrangement: He gets to learn Chinese, something he doesn't get at home, AND, I don't have to worry about his afternoon activities. On the other hand, because I am not there to supervise this transition, I don't know what the teacher is handing out, what this child is stuffing in his backpack, and most importantly, what he is NOT stuffing in his backpack.

Whenever Hubby's schedule allows him to, he will go pick Aidan up from Chinese school and do some special guy activity- mainly, going to the bookstore to practice reading and get a new book. (It is hard to do with Zoe in tow, one mouth is really only capable of reading one story at a time, after all.) On Tuesdays, Aidan gets picked up by Grandpa to go to Kumon to work on his math and reading skills. (I know, I know, it sounds like Aidan is doing a lot, and yes, he is doing a lot, but he is doing them beautifully, with time to play and he still gets his 11 hours of sleep nightly.)

With these nice people picking him up from Chinese school, I then don't get to supervise that transition: What is going in his backpack, what is NOT going in his backpack...

Overall, Aidan is pretty good about his stuff, according to his Chinese school head teacher, who has two kids of her own, and has been supervising lots of children over the years. Still, he is a kindergartner, after all.

For the last two Tuesdays, I met him at Kumon, as he was packing up his bags, I peeked in his backpack, and I didn't see his homework folder. "Sweet boy, where is your homework?" Two Tuesdays ago, it was, "Oops. I left it at Chinese school." Then we drove back to Chinese school, he hopped out to the car, ran inside, couldn't find his folder, came back, with tears streaming down his sweet face, "The Jewish people took them!" (He shares the space with a Hebrew school...) Rest assured, the Jewish folks were not interested in his homework- his teacher had set them aside. Yesterday, I was supervising the stuffing of the backpack, "Sweet child, where is your homework folder?" "Hmm, I don't know, I didn't find it at Chinese school, I bet it is in the van." DRATS. On the way back, I told him, "My sweet, sweet Aidan, I love you. But chasing your homework down makes me want to poke my eyes out and throw them on the ground, and them stomp on them. You gotta remember them."

We went back to Chinese school, found the head teacher, she went to the huge van they use for pickups, Aidan looked all over, and there. was. no. homework. folder.

On the way home, we decided to do some imagery work. He closed his eyes, and we tried to retrace his steps. Alas, it was totally blank between when he got his homework folder (he could say it was the purple one!) and how he got in the van. "Why didn't you stuff it in your backpack?" "It was full of stuff already, Mommy." "Aidan, you just always gotta stuff it in. Doesn't matter how you do it, Just. Stuff. It. In."

Then we practiced. "Ok, Aidan, close your eyes. Imagine. Mrs. S. gives you your folder, you hold it in your right hand. You want outside, what do you see?" "People." "Ok, you wait for your turn. You get to your backpack. You stuff it in. You check: Snack pack. Lunch pack. Homework folder. Whatever-else-Mrs. S.-gave you. Jacket. Zip up. Go with your Chinese school teacher."

Then he said, "Mommy, you forget your stuff too!" I told him, "Of course, but it is SO painful." Then I told him about how I went to a violin lesson, and FORGOT my VIOLIN.