Optimism

I am the optimist in our family. Tom is the, well, he’s not really all that optimistic nor is he pessimistic. I can’t even say he’s all that into realism. He just sort of goes with the flow. Though one afternoon when Olivia was about four months old and still screaming as she had from the moment she came home from the hospital at eleven days old, Tom did say with a bit of frustration, “We should be able to put her down for ten minutes without having her scream like that.”

Yeah, you think?

But really, he’s more about the here and now. How are things going right this second? Don’t worry about tomorrow or next week, let’s get through this moment and see where we are in the next one. Yes, that’s Tom. There is no word for that, though.

My mom is our realist.

Back when O was still reaching for those milestones like sitting independently and crawling and walking, I would often say something like, “Oh, I think sitting/crawling/walking is right around the corner for her.”

And my mom would sort of raise her eyebrows at me and say, “We’ll see.”

She was never unkind, she was just trying to get me to stop getting my hopes up.

But it really wasn’t about getting my hopes it. It was more about the anticipation of Olivia reaching one of those significant achievements, knowing she would, just not knowing when.

This weekend, I said something similar.

Let’s remember that O’s been in school for two weeks. Make that nine days total. She’s had one report from her teacher and that was a glowing report. For me, the eternal optimist, it meant, “I think, at this rate, she’s going to be ready for kindergarten next year.”

I know. Way to jump the gun, huh? But still, she COULD be ready for kindergarten by next year. She’s so much further ahead right now, just two weeks in, than she was last May when preschool ended.

She wrote her name over the weekend. All by herself, without something to trace or even someone else writing it for her first and her copying the letters underneath. Let me repeat: She wrote her name.

You guys, that is significant improvement over last year when she wouldn’t even try to write anything beyond the O.

So yes, I stand by my statement that she might be ready for kindergarten next year.

My mom can continue to be the realist and say, “Yes, she might be.” And she will emphasize the word ‘might’ to remind me not to be disappointed if she isn’t ready.

But I won’t be. Truly. I want the best for Olivia and if that includes a second year of kinderkids, so be it. But I won’t be the one to tell O she isn’t ready. I will let her own achievements tell us and her where she needs to be.

Obviously we’ll take each year as it comes and deal with whatever challenges lie ahead of us. But the optimist in me can’t help but see these first two weeks as wonderful progress in the right direction.