Keeping it classy in the class of 2022

Hello, Friends.

You should know that I've cried over a pin twice in my life.

The first time was during college when my BFFMB (Best Friend Forever Mary Beth) created custom-made pins for our circle of friends. I can't reveal here what it said on the pins because it involved inappropriate, graphic language, but it was a timeless quote stated by one of the dumbest men God ever created.

I still have this pin. And I'm still unsure why it inspired tears. Maybe because MB took the time (not that her student activities post was all that demanding That Summer) to make it for all of us and preserve our memories in such an interesting fashion. Maybe it was due to the several liters of vodka. Who could be sure.

The second time I cried over a pin was for much more logical reasoning. It said, "Chartiers Valley Class of 2022," and it was given to my daughter at Kindergarten registration. She was so proud to fasten it on her shirt, and she couldn't wait to show everyone in the family her primary school bling.

I've known about registration for months now, and I've had the packet of 15 papers filled out for weeks. All of the necessary proof was successfully rounded up as well, including a baptismal record signed by a wonderful man--the same reverend who married Larry and me.

I easily remembered conversations I shared with him about Cienna, and I just wanted to pick up the phone or mail him a note to tell him what it felt like to walk her through the main lobby for the first time. And I wanted to tell Munch and Pap and Gran. But I couldn't. Yet somehow I could feel their pride, their joy and their love.

Larry was amazing. So supportive. So devoted. So loving. He knew I would be all sorts of emotional, and he knew I would keep it inside. We all did. Both he and Gram Arlene accompanied us to the registration area, and I told them to take a little tour while I handled the paperwork. Maybe I've become too used to handling the big things in her life.

While I talked immunizations and family demographics, Cienna colored and waxed poetic about iCarly and Hannah Montana. In just a few minutes, Larry walked up to the table and said to the office aide, "Hey, how's it goin'? I'm Cienna's dad." Cienna confirmed. "Yeah, that's my dad. I have two brothers and two uncles and a bunch of grandparents too." I believe she then explained what she calls all of her grandparents--Nana, Pappy, Gramma, Pap, GG and Grandma Arlene. I think she may have inherited my outspoken and verbose nature. God help her.

Following the paperwork, we were invited to a workshop that focused on Kindergarten readiness. It was led by the school counselor and school psychologist. Larry said, "I have a feeling I'll be seeing a lot of them."

Before we left, we took Cienna for a walk around her new school. Several mismatched art projects were hanging in the hallways, each one cuter than the last. And I remembered being a reporter and covering education. A special project found me in several elementary schools one spring, when Cienna wasn't even 2 yet. I walked similar halls, wondering what it would be like when my daughter went to Kindergarten. It seemed so far away. Then she was in preschool. And now this, which feels so much different than preschool. I just know the years will pass by even faster now. I'm not sure what to do with that. I'm excited for her and scared all at once. People tell me that's normal, but I still can't believe she's old enough for this already. My little girl.

We had a celebratory dinner that evening, and I expected Cienna would go on and on about the prospect of new friends, new lessons and new adventures. But she was more interested in athletic prospects that were being discussed on ESPN's "PTI." She gets it naturally. Clearly, Kindergarten is no match for the athletic commentary she enjoys with Larry--especially "Around the Horn." Is it the beginning of her superior athleticism?

It's really amazing to see how love from various people--parents, grandparents, siblings, uncles, aunts, cousins -- can blend into one child. What they cling to and take away from those relationships is just so interesting to me.

Among other things, I think Cienna identifies me as the true communicator in the house. Or at least I'm assuming that's why every time I try to take a shower, she walks in, sits down Indian-style on the toilet and says, "Mom, can I talk to you a little bit?" And the conversation ranges from traveling to the beach to why she thinks dress shoes for Easter should be called "bunny shoes."

And when Larry is not making her clean her room, he's definitely a source of recreation for her. They watch shows and sports together, including the NCAA college hockey tournament. Seriously, I think she may know more than some writers. It's disturbing. I was amazed when she spoke of the frozen four and it didn't involve orange, cherry, grape and banana popcicles.

Ty is her best friend. For sure. They're practically inseparable. She constantly watches out for him, and when we're not with him, she wants to call and see how he's doing. It's precious. And I'm so glad they have that kind of relationship.

She's absolutely amazed by Dimitri. She and Ty make him pictures every day--we've even framed some for his walls. And the first time she saw Dimitri smile at her, she said, "It's like magic, Mom. He really loves me."

It's moments like that which I never take for granted. And I try to make them last as long as possible. Because you just can't get these years back.