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April 4, 2008 Frances Friday: Finis 
First, an update for those of you who commented yesterday: The parent-teacher meeting went great because, of course, her teacher adores her. Everybody loves Frances. "I'm so happy with her! She's great. She sits still in circle time, and always asks to use the bathroom, and she knows when she's had too much playtime and needs some time alone. She's very happy and she has lots of friends and she's good at sharing. And she's very bright." The homework question also went over well: I explained our time restrictions and she agreed that the readers were not that important, especially at four; I also asked how the new homework policy is likely to affect s/k, and she's not sure, but I personally am hoping that there is just no homework, period. Then there was the daycare Spring Concert, in which a group of young daycare friends, with the assistance of a college Early Childhood Education student, put on a stunning rendition of Munsch's The Paperbag Princess. Frances was the fire: her costume was a piece of brown paper about the size of her dress that had been painted in swirls of red and orange and yellow, tied on to her arms with ribbon. And when the dragon blew, she ran around the "trees" shouting, "I am fire! I will burn you up!" Then the trees lay down and died. It was very dramatic. And the princess saved the prince and decided she didn't like him anymore--yadda yadda, once the fire was done, I wasn't really paying attention. ~~~~~ "Mommy, is Daddy your true love?" Wincing. "Umm, no." Thinking: where the hell did that come from? One too many viewings of Shrek? Fairytales at school? Voice wavering: "But I love my Daddy!" I hugged her, kissed the top of her warm head. "That's good. You should love your Daddy. But, well, Daddy and I aren't together anymore." God damn this developing intellect business. Speaking of which: I realized the other day that Frances has learned how to pronounce the letter R. When precisely this happened I couldn't say, but she's now rrrrolling with the best of them. Old Style: Mummy, whewe is my wed cwayon? New Style: Mummy, wherrre is my rrred crrrayon? Old Style: I'm weally thiwsty! New Style: I'm rrreally thirrsty! You get the picture. She's gone overboard with the rrr, grrrowling them out like a tiny blonde pirate. Arrr, matey. Old Style: I'm not ti-ohed! New Style: I'm not tirrred, Mummy, rrrreally! Now she pronounces everything properly (if aggressively). The last of her babyish misprononciations has been outgrown, and I am bereft. I'll have the mispronounced words for a while yet, which is a comfort. ("Mummy, remember when we went to the thetee-ar? And the TV screen was so big!") I am also shocked at her memory these days: my gods, she remembers all the way back to living in the Old House, as she delights in reminding me. "Rrrememberrr in the Old House, Mummy," she'll say, "I used to play with the old Baby Eloise, and she would sleep on the black leatherrr chairrr." "I remember," I'll say, and think, how the hell do you remember? We moved out last August, isn't that a long time for a little girl? And how much else do you remember? Do you remember learning to walk by circling our black leather coffee table, round and round it, when you weren't even tall enough to see its top? Do you remember catching little frogs in the backyard? I know you remember your flower garden; you've been asking me about it lately, and I've had to promise you that we will get you some flowers to grow again this year. I know you remember NB, and playing with him in the park, and going down the slide in his backyard. Do you remember how angry I was there, how unfocused by rage; or do you remember only the days when you would snuggle on the big bed between your father and I, and turn your head from one of us to the other, the happiness in your eyes enough to fill the house? My little girl is growing up; and while she's still a starring player in my story, it's become obvious to me lately that she now is creating a story of her own, busily constructing memory and meaning all by herself. Her story is no longer mine to tell--and so, I won't. Posted by Andrea at April 4, 2008 9:19 AM under Frances Friday EMAIL this entry (comments fields are below this section) Comments First, you can absolutely take credit for planting the PB idea in my subconscious where it erupted today with *no credit to you whatsoever* (sorry) because I totally forgot. But I loved that movie long before even knew you. Second, have you been showing that movie to Frances...who even though you say is saying her Rs now still is saying "twu wuv" in my mind. In an old man accent. Sorry. ;) Your last paragraph...oh yeah. Oh yeah I remember when that struck me. I may even have blogged it... P.S. Fate is a good idea. It's niggling me that we already did it once? I'd say if even I can't recall clearly it needs another airing but I have a notoriously HORRID short-term memory. What angle of fate? Posted by: Julie Pippert at April 4, 2008 10:06 AM
So - let me get this straight - no more Frances?!?! Truly?! Posted by: elsimom at April 4, 2008 11:15 AM
I'm not exactly sure yet. No more Frances Fridays--I feel like she's old enough now that I need to do more to protect her privacy. I'm sure she'll make guest appearances, just not on a weekly basis--and no, the blog's not ending. I don't know what it's going to turn into yet, but I have no plans to stop writing just yet. Posted by: Andrea
Glad the homework situation didn't come to blows. I will miss me my Frances Fridays. Looking forward to watching this site go to it's next phase. Posted by: Miche at April 4, 2008 1:13 PM
Yeah, Frances!! You'll be showing your mom the ins and outs of a blog before we know it! Please let us know when she starts blogging and I'll add her to my bloglines too! Posted by: Wendy at April 4, 2008 2:18 PM
I didn't get a chance to respond yesterday re: homework - I read it on my way out the door from work. I think homework for little ones is insane, and my friend with the masters in public health and child development thinks its actively detrimental to young children's development to sacrifice playtime for worksheets It is amazing how much they remember... Secunda sometimes will refer to things at her old sitter's house - things that happened before she turned 3, over 2 years ago now. Memory is an odd thing; I've thought a lot about what I remember from my children's age(s), what I think they might remember, what I hope they don't remember, and what my parents might have thought I'd remember. And how so many of my memories are simple moments of what seemed to be perfect balance... I'll enjoy whatever Frances tidbits you pass on in the future... Posted by: Sara at April 4, 2008 2:30 PM
If this is the end of Frances Friday I will miss your updates. I have been following you and Frances since she was born and you were on FF in the Canadian group. Posted by: Jacqueline at April 4, 2008 4:32 PM
I will also miss Frances Friday. She is such a delightful girl and I love to hear/read about her. I would have loved to have seen Frances as fire. Posted by: ccw at April 4, 2008 7:00 PM
A Friday without Frances will be a Friday without sunshine. I totally understand your reasoning, but still. Posted by: Gina at April 4, 2008 7:18 PM
Oh, but I would have loves to hear her rolling her rrrrrs on Radio Free Frances!! Even so, I understand the need to protect her privacy. All the best with your present and future blogs. Posted by: Sue at April 4, 2008 7:41 PM
I loved this whole post, but this undid me: Posted by: Freakazojd at April 4, 2008 8:42 PM
What they all said. I will miss my regular Frances updates! Give that sweetie a big hug from teh internets. And daily homework for 4 yo's is insane. MM is six and they have "homework" about once a week. Twice if there's something special going on. This week the homework (due Wednesday) is to write a list of where he's travelled to and where his relatives live so that the class can find those places on a map. Posted by: Liz at April 4, 2008 8:53 PM
Picturing her as the fire is just gorgeous. I love it. I recall the dawning of the letter "r." It was a sad day. Now the only two things April mispronounces are yellow ("lellow") and cupcake ("pupcake"). When those go, I'll weep. Posted by: Mary at April 4, 2008 10:50 PM
oh man, no more frances fridays, really? Posted by: marianne at April 5, 2008 3:24 AM
I'll miss hearing about Frances. She has been a joy to get to know and has given me joy in reminding me of some of my own family's funny little moments. Posted by: Isabel at April 5, 2008 11:46 AM
I will totally miss Frances Fridays. My children are all boys and I love hearing about a little girl, especially as one as bright and outspoken as Frances. Posted by: Jill at April 7, 2008 4:28 PM
That was wonderful! But I do wish you to keep telling her story. It's the overlapping of these circles that are each of our lives that let us own each other, even if only for a piece of that pie! Posted by: woman in a window at April 8, 2008 11:36 AM
i'm late to this, but i just wanted to say that i too will miss Frances Fridays. unless, um, she's getting her own blog? ;) but i get it. and that you get it is such a gift, to her. Posted by: Bon at April 8, 2008 1:13 PM
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Change is God (Octavia Butler, Parable Series) "We live in an occupied country, misunderstood. Justice will take us millions of intricate moves." William Stafford Email Frances! frances AT athenadreaming DOT org You can email her mother too (that's me):
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