Okay. We got a Wii for Christmas (
thank you, Momstone!) It's awesome -- we played the bowling game as a family for about an hour, until Maggie could not handle her brother's competitive tendencies any longer and had a series of meltdowns. Up until that point, we were like the Waltons. Or the Ingalls. Or the Cleavers. Or maybe the Simpsons.
The next day, Paul and I went out to procure presents for Maggie's birthday (she turned four two days after Christmas) and, while we were out, Paul accompanied me on my very first trip to a game store (some might say "virgin trip"; there seem to be a lot of them -- destined to stay that way -- in those places). Well. We came away with a winter sports game that, unbeknownst to me (because I forgot to read the package) requires a Wii Fit balance board. Now, the smart person would return the game. I am not that person. I am the person that went to nine -- nine -- different stores in two days searching for what appears to be the most popular game of the Christmas 2008 season: the Wii Fit. I sure do wish I was that smarter person and not, well, you know. Me.
Sunday morning at 8:00am, Paul and I succeeded. We joined the gaggle of middle-aged women with looming resolutions -- only 14 games in the store and we got one. Home again. Later Sunday, Charles took Paul and Maggie out. (After Charles laughed at me doing the Wii figure skating until I thought he might soil himself.) I opened the Wii Fit disc. Oy.
The Wii Fit assesses your body and assigns a Wii age. I do not like this. The Wii Fit did its thing, sending me through a brief series of balance tests. It asked if I fall down a lot. It did not give me the opportunity to reply. It told me that I am 57 in Wii years. I hate that thing. But, I figured, why not give the exercise thing a go. I went for about 45 minutes (it asked me if I wanted to take a rest -- I noticed that no rocking chair was offered, or a shawl for that matter.) I got to the running part. The Jeff Tweedy Mii that I created (I am working on the entire band. And yes, thank you, I do realize that's a little weird.) passed me -- twice. Thank goodness it didn't ask me any questions (Paul has noticed that I seem to forget a lot of small words lately.)
You would think that I'd had enough humiliation for one day (obviously not, since I'm telling you all about it)... But noooo... After we watched The Big Lubowski last night, Charles stayed up to try out the Wii Fit. His Wii age? 34. Thirty-four! 34! And when I told him about the falling down comment, all he could say was "Well, you do."
Humiliation. Complete. Total. Stunning.
I remember carrying Maggie through the halls in her carseat as we delivered Paul to preschool. I remember how terribly excited Maggie was to get her chance to stay at school (how could she run off without even kissing me goodbye?!) even as Paul would sob and cling to me when it was time to begin class. I remember the days spent with other parents painting murals in the hallways to enliven otherwise drab areas that the kids & teachers use. We had fun creating the first concert series last year, and our favorite parts of each holiday season have been the Halloween parade and the Christmas pageant. I don't know how many cookies I've baked for WDN/MDO over the past seven years, but I suspect that number is in the thousands.
Today was Maggie's last day at WDN. She's now an official graduate of preschool (with a diploma to prove it), ready for the rigors and challenges of kindergarten. And that ends an era for our family. I'll miss seeing the very capable, creative, compassionate teachers whom I have come to count as friends over the years. I'll miss the murals in the hallways. I'll miss the countless art projects. I know she's ready for new challenges, but it seems like these years have gone by so fast. Too fast, really. We don't have a very young child any longer. We have two elementary school kids. The door to very special time of our lives closed at 12:15pm today. I'm sad. I'm happy. I'm all sorts of things. I guess that, most of all, I'm delighted at the thought of what's next on the horizon.
