second grade | Good Times with Jess

Wellness. I’m not sure when it became a widespread concept that everyone knows what it means, but BB has more breathing techniques and calm-down strategies than I do.

Wellness isn’t just a concept for her, it’s a class. There’s gym, music, art and wellness.

The closest I may have gotten to it as a kid was a health class, but breathing and mental health were not discussed.

A month ago I had to dismiss BB early for the dentist. She was upset,

“I don’t want to miss Wellness!”

“Why?”

“We’re learning about our Yeti Body.”

“Your Yeti Body?! What’s that?”

“I DON’T KNOW! That’s what we’re going to learn!”

Ah yes. Point taken, but considering the dentist is booked solid for months, Yeti Body will have to wait.

Last spring I stood chatting with a dear friend and her husband, who also have two daughters. The husband mentioned that maybe we should have a girls’ weekend at their condo in New Hampshire.

I’m all for traveling with kids and without Captain, but in this case I’m not sure why I’d leave him behind. I’d rather not be outnumbered.

I voice my hesitation,

“It wouldn’t be that fun taking care of the kids without Captain.”

My friend nods in agreement. Her husband shakes his head,

“No! The two of you, without the kids.”

“Oh! Without the kids?! Yes please!” I’m free all the weekends.

I spent 30 glorious hours away:

Two hour car ride without yelling or tossing anything to the backseat
Gorgeous hikes
Outdoor hot tub
Long delicious dinner out
A sleep in
Uninterrupted coffee
Yoga
Another relaxing two hour drive

And all with great company. I’d be happy to do any one of those things, so to do them all was luxurious. It felt like the definition of wellness, but I’ll run it by BB.

As we got out of the hot tub, I had a moment of concern. We had half an hour to shower and get ready for dinner, but then I realized the only person I had to get ready was me and I’m very cooperative.

When I got home and swept BB into a hug, she asked,

“Were you homesick?”

“Not at all!”

Later I ask BB,

“Did you ever find out what your Yeti Body is?”

“Yes. You get into your Yeti Body when you need to calm down. You smell your soup. You blow on your soup. You smell your soup. You blow on your soup.”

I grab my soup. This is a very effective breathing strategy.

The other day BB came home from school with a story to tell. I’m relaying it to you secondhand and I do not stand behind its accuracy. It should be noted that BB is having the best year yet; she adores her teacher and class.

BB tells me,

“Mrs. Soandso lost her temper today.”

“She did?”

“We were in line and everyone was shouting. She told us a few times to be quiet and no one was listening. Then she yelled ‘SHUTUP!'”

“She did?!?”

“So I turned to my friend L and whispered ‘Mrs. Soandso needs to get into her Yeti Body.'”

You did?!

I really hope BB was this quick with her smart-aleck joke. Her sense of humor makes my heart sing. Maybe with wellness.

And then there was quiet.

THANK GOODNESS.

I adore our summers at the beach. But I can’t say enough good things about being home alone.

This is my unicorn week: Kids at school and Captain at the office. It hasn’t happened since June. And it won’t happen again until October.

I’m soaking in the solo vibes. Vacuuming whenever wherever. Reading my blog out loud without anyone asking me what the heck I’m talking about. (Reading out loud is really the best way to edit.)

And having the run of the place without being scared to death every time I turn a corner and bump into Captain. You’d think by now I’d remember that he lives here too.

Which is what he says when I scream. He reminds me,

“I live here too.”

Maybe he’ll learn to stay at his desk.

BB is thrilled to be in second grade, in part or in whole because she gets her own locker. RB is happy to be in the same pre-school class as last year, but her friends all moved up to pre-k.

In theory this sounded fine to her. Last week she kept exclaiming,

“I’m in the same room, with my same teachers, but with new friends!”

“Yes!”

“I’m excited to see A!”

“A isn’t in your class anymore.”

“Oh.”

We walked into her classroom this morning and she went to put her lunchbox away. She declared,

“I put it next to A’s.”

Hmmm. Maybe it looks like A’s…

RB runs off to play and I chat with her teachers. On my way out, RB gives me a concerned look and mutters under her breath to me,

“These are baby kids.”

She’s not wrong.

Last year she was a baby kid. She was still two and one of the youngest. Now she’s almost four and one of the oldest. I reassure her about what a big kid she is.

That seems to do the trick. She had a wonderful day and was very chatty on the way home. She told me all about her new friends, including one still wearing a diaper. She doesn’t seem to be holding it against her.

Now RB is home and it’s still quiet. There’s no one for her to fight with and there’s no one to scare me. There’s a little bit of peace.