A day out with my girl

Last Friday I did something that I always said I'd do but don't: I picked Rachel up early from school (a surprise) and took her to a nature center near our house, the Long Branch Nature Center.

I showed up unexpectedly around 4, and Rachel's face when she saw me was all smiles. She was sitting with Sidney, whose looked puzzled and briefly envious when Rachel collected her things and came to my side. The first thing she said? "Mommy, I missed you SO MUCH!" She said in the car that she had been crying a little because I wasn't there and had started writing a note to me telling me that, with the writing in blue to indicate sadness.

We got to the nature center pretty quickly, and as we were getting out of the car she said that she was going to put a ponytail on, a task that I usually do for her. And then she said, "I know what you're thinking. 'Rachel doesn't need me anymore.'" I was floored and could only say, "Sweetie, stop reading my mind!"

(She did this late as we were walking to the shelter, except she said, "I know what you're thinking. You're thinking, 'Rachel's growing up too fast!'" Well, yes).

We stopped at a shelter to eat some of the snacks I had brought -- a foresight that I usually don't exhibit -- and she started talking about her birthday party and how she wanted to invite her friends from Portland. I made the mistake of saying we couldn't, because they live too far away and probably wouldn't come, and all of a sudden she burst into tears and went on and on about how she missed Portland, and missed her friends and wished we hadn't moved, etc. "I'm sorry you feel that way," I said quietly, and then I thought of a way to make things better. "Why don't we invite them anyway?" I said. "Maybe they'll decide to take a trip out here and include your birthday party." That seemed to cheer her up and she was soon her usual chatterbox self.

Then we took a little walk, and Rachel tried to cross the creek using the stones instead of the bridge to get herself across. It was interesting watching her figure out how to do it without getting her sneakers wet. I tossed out a suggestion here and there, and even offered to help her at one point, but she shrugged me off and made it across. (She suggested that Mommy use the bridge, which I did because I was carrying a backpack with the water and the rest of the snacks.)

On the way up the hill I mentioned that a teacher in another school district had done an exercise with her students: "What do you wish your teacher knew?" and they had to write down responses anonymously (although some chose to use their names). The responses, I told Rachel, were heartbreaking -- "I wish I had someone to play with," "I wish my teacher knew that sometimes my reading log isn't signed because my mom isn't around a lot."

"What do you wish your teacher knew?" I asked.

At first she said she didn't know, but then she thought about it and said, "You're not around a lot. I don't like it when you take trips. That's why I love vacation, because we're all together."

I winced, because she sounded a little teary, but didn't say anything except repeating what I've always told her -- that Mommy has to work, and I tried to switch to days but couldn't but maybe someday I'll be able to.

We ended our walk sort of late, and I was on tap to make a Shabbat dinner of lamb chops, pilaf and salad, which didn't get done until 8, but the time Rachel and I had was so valuable that it was worth it.