1 Mother 2 Another

It finally happened! Our preschool open house! I have been working with a group of mothers and one of the founders of Mustard Seed School to open The Nest Early Learning Center in Hoboken. We are a two-morning-a-week program for 3 and 4 year olds integrating faith and the arts. Since we received approval to move ahead at the end of April from The Mustard Seed School board and administration, we have been working diligently to get the program off the ground. In the beginning, we only had two families signed up--my friend, Cathy’s and mine. The summer was constant activity: finding a space, setting up an application process, interviewing students and their families, working with the city on a certificate of occupancy, developing marketing materials, setting up a website—the list goes on and is far more extensive that I figured it would be when we began the venture.



It has been hard work. It has meant dusting off the rusting skills from my previous corporate life. I have found it rewarding at times, challenging and exciting at times, and yes, even a burden some times. And I have to honest: I have learned that I am not so great at balancing work and family. At times, I worried that the dust bunnies might begin to take over the house. I have never been a fastidious housekeeper and working on the preschool gave me the perfect excuse to avoid housework altogether. The hardest part, though, was trying to get work done during the day at times when I usually spend with the kids or cook. I will confess that we ate a lot more hotdogs and take-out and less homemade, healthy food. I confess that it was hard to be patient with Isaiah when I was burning down my reserves working on the preschool.


Isaiah walked into the classroom for the open house last night, surveyed all of the possibilities—building with small and large blocks, painting, reading books, making collages, putting together puzzles—and his eyes brightened with excitement. I wanted to cry tears of joy but my stoic, public side took control.


We have arrived at a new stage. Isaiah is growing, and his need to learn and interact with other kids is more than I can provide him at home right now. It has been a long summer for us. We chose to stay home because of Joshua doesn’t sleep well when we travel. We chose to plan our days so Josh could nap at home. There were many days when Isaiah and I fought with boredom, when we had played music, read books, baked, danced, made art and come out on the other side of those activities wanting more. I just have to believe that our sacrifices contributed to Joshua’s extremely sunny disposition. Otherwise, I’ll go crazy.


Last night after I put Isaiah to bed, he called to me. “Mom, do I go to school tomorrow?”



“No, Isaiah, not tomorrow, but the day after that.”



“Yeah, preschool!” he yelled, bouncing around in his bed.


“Good night, Isaiah.”


“Mommy?”


“Yes, Isaiah?”


“Thank you for working on my preschool.”



Oh, my sweet boy! You cannot know the lengths to which I’d go to take care of you. Your babyhood still lingers in our household, still seems so close. How is it that you are old enough for preschool?


“Our boy is growing up.” I told Paul later that night.


“Don’t remind me,” he said, trying to distract himself from sadness by surfing the web for consumer electronics.



But I do not feel sad. I feel joy at the learning that will come, the worlds that will open up to my child. I feel satisfaction that my work has born fruit. Maybe when the school days start and Isaiah is no longer home with Josh and me every morning I will feel a tinge of grief. Or perhaps the two mornings a week to spend with just Joshua, and, let’s face it, to grocery shop with only ONE child, will be a wonderful change. Maybe it will mean that the time that Isaiah and I do have together will be more meaningful. All of the above? We’ll see.


On to fundraising for scholarships and more equipment, setting up the parent directory, planning for expansion, interviewing waiting list candidates, and updating our materials. I guess I have the opportunity to get better with my balancing act.