Aisling's First Day of School

It's hard to believe that summer is "officially" over. Despite the sweltering weather, it is, in fact, the first week of school. My stress level has been slowly rising as August came to an end and my thoughts turned to back-to-school preparations. Could I recycle Ceilidh's backpack for Aisling since Ceilidh had a new, larger backpack. Did Aisling need shoes? Pants were a must for Ceilidh, but not so much for Devlin who hadn't grown as much as I expected. Feet were another story. Everyone needed new shoes. I had purchased Devlin's epi-pens and gotten the doctor's note signed earlier in the summer, but where did I put them? And since we were heading to the family cottage for the last few days of summer, I had to decide how much "lunch" shopping I needed to do beforehand since we were returning on Labour Day to closed stores.
The reality was, I was filling my mind with trivial worries to delay dealing with the fact that my baby girl, my little preemie, my tiny Aisling with the loud voice was heading off to junior kindergarten. While Aisling has been enrolled in structured lessons and activities since she was eighteen months old - gymnastics, swimming, dance, soccer, Sunday school - she has never been in daycare or preschool. This would be her first taste of a classroom setting for a prolonged period of time. And more worrisome, her first time eating lunch in a group setting without a parent or caregiver hovering over her and watching her every bite.
I'm not sure what worried me more - whether or not she would actually ingest any form of nourishment while at school or whether or not she would have a temper tantrum from not getting her way on the first day of classes. For those who think I'm over-reacting or being an over-protective, over-anxious mother, you haven't met my Aisling.
Lately, we've had a few issues or struggles with food with Aisling. Rare is the meal when she would clear her plate. Often, there would be much pleading and negotiating over the few morsels of food on her plate. When urged to eat, she'd simply squirrel the bites into her tiny cheeks and then mumble she couldn't chew.
But more worrisome has been the battle of wills we've had with Aisling over the summer. I will readily admit that Aisling is a tad spoiled. She was the youngest child for nearly three and half years. I'm sure if I really closely examined my actions, the residual guilt I've carried for birthing a premature baby and having to leave her at the hospital for a week before I could bring her home probably plays a role.
However, having two older siblings also means she has two role models and examples - both good and bad. She has learned to verablly spar with us (modelling after Devlin), and she will negotiate everything. Example: when given the choice between strawberries or apples for a snack, she will ask for chocolate. When told she had to sleep in the top bunk or the lower bunk, she picked sleeping with Mommy. When told my Daddy that sleeping with Mommy wasn't an option, she took matters into her own hands. She simply walked into the bedroom, and wriggled into bed next to me and Quinn.  If all else fails in the battle of wills, Aisling will pout and stomp her feet (mimicking Ceilidh), and then stick her tongue out.  What if she does that at school?
Then there's her voice. She has no volume control. Given her stature, it's quite surprising how loud and gruff her voice can be. All summer long we have tried to instill an indoor voice, but to no avail.
Aisling's first day of school dawned bright and early. In an attempt to not be rushed, the kids were awakened early and breakfast served quickly.  Teeth were brushed, hair tied back, shoes tied, lunch bags packed and pictures taken. Despite our best efforts, we were still late. That meant we were unable to meet Aisling's teacher and she had to rush into the classroom. There were several hurried hugs and kisses at the door. Her small face looked on the verge of tears, so I pasted a huge smile on mine, waved bye and walked away.
I crossed my fingers, said a quick prayer and hoped we didn't have another Devlin on our hands. He cried for two months straight, everyday, when he started kindergarten. There were mornings I had to peel him off my legs. Now, he won't let me hold his hand on school property, and no real hugs either. He'll grant me a half-hearted semi-hug if I insist. On his first day back, I had to settle for patting his head.
Well, all my worries may have been for naught. When we went to pick up Aisling, her teacher reported that she had a very good day. Aisling was good at listening to instructions, and lining up, and enjoyed crafts and painting. "A very sweet child" were the teacher's exact words. Aisling herself reported the day was "great".
And her lunch bag? Empty save for the peaches she had informed me earlier that she wouldn't eat.