School started a week ago. Students — even kindergartners, taking that giant step — adapted quickly.
It took parents a bit longer.
Eva Amurri is an actress and lifestyle blogger (“Happily Eva After“). She writes about food, beauty, wellness, and life here in Westport with her husband Kyle Martino and their 2 young children: home renovation projects, water safety, dealing with a toddler’s broken leg.
When Marlowe entered kindergarten, Eva shared her reflections with her worldwide followers. She wrote:
I’ve always firmly believed that one cannot truly know the “type” of parent one will be or the exact values one will strive for in parenting until one actually becomes a parent. We all have preconceived notions, of course, but something different is hatched in your mind and heart when you hold your child in your arms for the first time and really connect to your hopes and dreams for that person. It’s a pretty difficult feeling to describe and a completely revolutionary one to experience.
Eva Amurri
When I became a mom, it became clear to me that the number one value system I wanted desperately to instill in my children revolved around kindness, self-love, and independence. I think the thing that would make me the most proud of my children, and of myself as a parent, is to see them out in the world one day, making brave and solid decision on their own and navigating their own lives…without me. Although it’s a bit of a stretch (and hella emotional), I would argue that sending a child to elementary school for the first time, is that very first sliver-of-an-example of independence from the “nest.”
Marlowe started kindergarten three days ago, and it has definitely been a huge step in my life as a mom. And it’s been a little traumatizing, especially because it hasn’t been traumatizing at all for her.
Do these two concepts seem completely at odds with each other? Yes, they do. As do many emotions in the motherhood space, actually. So I figured I would unpack it and share a bit about how I’m feeling this week.
The first day of school was a big surprise to me. I had prepared to the max: packed everything the night before, labeled extra clothes in a bag, color coordinated everything, and asked around town for any information about the school, drop-off, pickup, and teachers. For a newbie, I felt ultra prepared, and as a Type A person, this made me feel great.
As I lay in bed the night before the first day, I played out the next morning in my mind — what I would feed the kids for breakfast, what I would wear, what she would wear, the photo we would take outside our new home, which route we’d take to school, and how I’d hug and kiss her as I left her at her cubby in her classroom.
Marlowe, on her first day of kindergarten.
The entire morning, everything went exactly as I had planned. I was feeling really level emotionally, and not at all on the brink of tears. In fact, I thought to myself “Wow! I’m surprising myself here! We are all doing great!”
Kyle and I walked her up the stairs in to the school foyer, and there were about 10 volunteer moms and teachers waiting there. They told me they’d take it from here.
And just like that, the most precious part of my plan, my “goodbye” was turned in to something totally different. I knelt, knowing that I had to say goodbye for the first/last/whatever time to my 5-year old and send her in to this big, new place – and that I had to do it in front of all these people I didn’t know. I felt so anxious and exposed, and so stupid for expecting my alternate fantasy plan to happen.
It wasn’t these people’s fault, of course, but I felt hot tears spring to my eyes. It took everything in my power to give Marlowe a tight squeeze and a smile, and watch her turn to walk happily away before I walked quickly outside and sobbed.
Kyle was really nice about it and suggested we try to go down to her room to have a “redo goodbye.” I actually laughed and reminded him that the last thing our daughter needed was for me to be That Mom, who disregards school rules because she is an emotional mess. No, this breakdown was all about me, and really had nothing to do with how she was feeling. In reality, she was doing great! She hadn’t even looked back at us once and she skipped down the stairs to her classroom.
Little brother Major gives Marlowe a kiss. (Photos courtesy of HappilyEvaAfter.com)
While we walked home I thought a lot about the conflict of the 2 things I was feeling all at once: the pain of the next “phase” of life as a parent, and the swelling pride that my child is showing signs of the type of independence I have hoped for her all her life. I suddenly realized how easy it is as parents to get in our own way when we reach these crossroads. Needing something for ourselves, while wanted something for our kids.
I definitely don’t have the answer for this, or any other examples besides my own life as a mom (obviously), but it has inspired me this week to remove more of my own judgments when I see conflicting behavior in parents I encounter. My own conflicts on the first day of school were internal, but they very well might not have been. I can see how we can need something for ourselves, and convince ourselves that it’s our children’s need instead.
When I picked her up from school, I was expecting her to be relieved to see us, maybe even emotional. I expected to see some kind of flicker on her little face that told me she had felt the length of the day in a new place and been so happy to return home.
Instead, she emerged flanked by 2 older kids, mid-conversation. She glanced at me and flashed me the brightest, happiest smile, and continued walking with her friends up the sidewalk from me all the way home.
This time, I watched in awe and with envy. I remembered my anxious youth, the different promises I would need to make to myself, the visible and invisible talismans, the routines – just to make it through the day at school.
And this time the tears came from relief. I’m so proud of my girl for being exactly who she is, and having her own story – separate from mine. I’m grateful for her confidence and independence, and while it stings a little to be an accessory now to her bigger and bolder life – I know she knows I’m always her touchstone right her waiting in case there’s a bad day.
From Bridge Square to Railroad Place — and everywhere else — Slice of Saugatuck is packed. (Photo/Terry Cosgrave)
The 8th annual event — a popular food-tasting, shop-exploring, kids-romping, music-enjoying festival — pushes north and west this year.
This Saturday (September 7, 2 to 5 p.m.), the Slice includes newly opened Mystic Market — the sandwich/salad/prepared foods/coffee mart on Charles Street — and the Goddard School, the daycare and childcare center on Saugatuck Avenue near Dunville’s (they’ll have a bouncy house).
They join more than 50 other businesses. All provide samples, and show off their merchandise or services (like Tae Kwan Do and dance). New this year too: boat rides, courtesy of Carefree Boat Club.
Firefighters at the Saugatuck station promote fire safety (and offer a seat in their very cool truck).
It’s a true community stroll. Kids love activities like an obstacle course, giant slide, balloon bender and Maker Faire area.
Adults appreciate 2 beer gardens (with wine as well), on Bridge Square and Railroad Place. Many restaurants offer specialty drinks (and hold happy hours after the Slice officially ends).
Saugatuck has always been about food. The Slice of Saugatuck festival is too.
People of all ages can hear bands like the 5 O’Clocks and School of Rock at 6 locations.
Music — not train horns and garbled announcements — fill the station air.
Tickets are $15 per adult (2 for $25). Children under 13 are $5; kids 5 and under go free. Admission (cash only) is available on site, starting at 1:50 p.m. Saturday.
Last year, the sponsoring Westport Weston Chamber of Commerce donated $4,000 of the proceeds to the Gillespie Center’s food pantry. The total over 7 years is $28,500.
Whenever I post a photo of a bucolic, water-rippling-over-boulders, looks-like-Vermont-but-it’s-actually-Westport shot, the default response is: the Saugatuck, River, at Ford Road.
Sure, that’s one of Westport’s most beautiful, underrated spots.
But it’s not the only one.
Last week’s Photo Challenge showed a scene that readers thought was Ford Road. (Click here to see.) In fact, it was Newman Poses Preserve. The river is the Aspetuck.
Leigh Gage was first with the correct answer. Seth Schachter, Jonathan McClure and Alice Ely followed soon.
This hidden gem — located off Bayberry Lane and Easton Road — is the only public memorial approved by the family of the late Paul Newman as a way to honor the actor/philanthropist/race car driver/popcorn and salad dressing king. He lived nearby, and donated much of the land for the preserve.
The parcel also includes land sold to the town by Lillian Poses, a neighbor and friend of the Newmans. She worked on the New Deal in Franklin D. Roosevelt’s administration, and was one of the first female graduates of NYU Law School.
Newman Poses Preserve is managed by the Aspetuck Land Trust. For more information, click here.
This week’s Photo Challenge is also wonderfully scenic. If you know where in Westport you’d see this — and everyone here has — click “Comments” below.
It’s not the only longtime Westport institution to shed its well-known name.
Sometime soon, the Westport Historical Society will be known as the “Westport Museum for History and Culture.”
Extremely alert “06880” reader Fred Cantor spotted the change in an intriguing way. The official state website’s Film, TV & Digital Media page has a section devoted to “Producing in Connecticut.”
The listing for “Westport Historical Society & Museum” — interestingly, the “& Museum” appears nowhere on the WHS’ own website or logo — says simply, “Soon to be renamed Westport Museum for History & Culture.”
Someone at the Connecticut Department of Economic and Community Development knows something the rest of Westport does not.
I emailed WHS — er, WMHC — executive director Ramin Ganeshram for comment. When is it happening? I asked. What are the reasons?
She was at a conference in Philadelphia, but got right back to me.
“We will be issuing a formal press release prior to our September 28 benefit
when it will be announced, and would be happy to fully comment at that time,” she said. “May I ask how you came to know the same?”
I sent her the CT.gov link.
“Thanks!” she replied. “Happy to discuss in detail with formal announcement. ”
I guess that’s all we’ll know until then. Stay tuned for that historic moment.
An alert “06880” reader — and grateful parent — writes:
Like many local businesses, Little Barn gets hit up for lots of good causes. Donate a gift card to a fundraiser? Buy an ad in a program book? Sponsor a team?
Owners Scott Beck and Kevin McHugh always say “sure!”
But the pair go way beyond donations. They’ve made their casual, friendly Post Road restaurant — formerly Dairy Queen, then Woody’s and Swanky Frank’s — what those other places never were: a “Cheers”-like home-away-from-home, where everyone feels welcome any time, and everybody knows your name. (And your kid’s name.)
Enter here for the Little Barn.
Some of their most devoted customers are Staples High School sports teams.
Take last fall’s freshman football squad. The heart of the squad has been together since 4th grade. Parents formed bonds as tight as the players. They all celebrated together after every game.
Many places viewed the enthusiastic group as an intrusion. Little Barn embraced them.
After the final game of the year — when the 9th graders finished undefeated — parent Miki Scarfo warned the restaurant that this gathering would be particularly large.
“Can’t wait to see you!” they said.
Players and siblings filled the back. Parents hung out in front. The varsity coaches and captains arrived, surprising the freshmen. It was organic, free-form and fun — a snapshot from another part of America, perhaps.
A small part of a large Little Barn gathering.
The rugby and wrestling teams have made Little Barn their own too. It’s where coaches, parents and athletes gather before and after competitions; where their booster clubs meet; wherever anyone goes at a random moment, knowing they’ll be welcome.
Little Barn’s support of Staples goes beyond sports.
Some restaurants with live entertainment hire adult musicians. Little Barn gives student bands a shot. The same parents who meet up for athletes pack the place, supporting the teenagers.
How does everyone know to go? When a gathering takes place, parents often send out texts. A group assembles in minutes. They call it “flashing the bat signal.”
Little Barn owner Scott Beck likes the “bat signal” idea so much, his marketing team created this graphic for it.
Little Barn sounds like a throwback to a different era.
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