It's back to school, here in Alabama. I wish I could say we go back to school so early because our education is longer, better, or in some way distinctive from other places--in a positive way--but, alas. In mid-90 temps, the kids go back to school, instead of waiting until after Labor Day when temps and therefore the cost of air conditioning would be lower, but no. We end school in the lovely month of May and go back in the soupy, hot August. I will never understand.
By and large, there's a good vibe around here about going back to school. While the kids aren't doing the 'woohoo' dance around the living room, I do think there's a general consensus that it's time to do something besides lounge around the house, play Wii, watch TV, swim, and eat bonbons. In fact, if school started later in the day, and the boys could just chill in the morning instead of being herded out the door, school would be mighty fine. Nobody, but nobody wants to get up before 6:30.
I hate packing lunches in the morning. I hate pouring juice, opening the bag o' ham and smelling deli meat before coffee. I don't like trying to think of something new and exciting to send. I don't like not being able to default to peanut butter and jelly. Not that I want to actually kill the allergic children at school with my pb&j, it's just that I'm lazy. I don't like signing a jillion papers and sorting through the 20 fliers and handouts. And I'm not even a kid.
But, yesterday the house was quiet. Really, really quiet. I could hear the refrigerator kick on and off and the ice maker deposit the ice into the bucket. I lounged. I ran errands in a timely, efficient fashion without being interrupted, begged to stop, harrassed for lunch and/or snacks, or having to referree.
I got a latte and ran errands in civilized clothes. I browsed at the shoe store, since I was out, and though I found nothing, I didn't have to hear, "BUT YOU PROMISED WE ONLY HAD TO MAKE ONE STOP AND THIS ISN'T IT!" Which was a relief.
I washed laundry and put it away. I picked up Legos without having a new trail laid out behind me. I went for a walk. I listened to music I like in the car. And when there was no music that I liked, I sat in silence. Life is very different without the kids.
Not once did I get begged for a (unhealthy) snack, did I have to break up a fight, did I have to play Lego or Wii, or in any way intervene in the childhoold plague of boredom. It was a big contrast to the whining and bickering of Sunday.
I ran into a friend at the grocery who said I looked "liberated" without my kids. I felt liberated, too. Like I could enter into a conversation without my children turning into clinging interrupters. I felt adult, and decently dressed and ready to be out "in the world," rather than rush-showered, unmade-up and frantic to finish everything before the kids became unruly. Everything was rather zen and relaxed, and kind of the way I expected it to be on the first day of back to school.
And then some woman had to wreck it. She overheard my friend and me talking about the return of school and what a relief it is to have a break, however short, from our kids and to move through the day as adults. But, there was this woman. Late 40s, maybe, clucking her tongue and reminding us how fast everything passes by. How she's taking her third child off to college. And how her heart is breaking. And how just yesterday, her college student was a toddler.
I GET IT. But, nostalgia, people, is for people who have the luxury of looking back. Those of us with elementary-aged kids, are still in the midst of 'the shit.' We have no light at the end of our tunnels, and feel as though we will be running errands, chauffering to activities and participating as PTA parents forever and ever without end. I know, your college student/adult child grew up so fast, you just blinked and it was over. This is the process of parenting. I WILL, surely, feel the same way when I take my baby off to college, but for now, parents of adult children: STOP TELLING ME TO ENJOY THIS.
Did you enjoy this? Running around to lessons, activities, whatever after school birthday/event/thing was going on? Did you enjoy buying whatever obscure school supply the teachers have sent you scavenging for? Did you enjoy kids growing out of shoes, and complaining about the seams in the socks, or whining about dinner, or complaining about bedtime, or "forgetting" to wash their hair in the tub, or flooding the bathroom, or hating their uniforms, or, or or or? No, this is the grind. This is the elbow grease of parenting that will, someday, gods willing, lead to the joy of accomplishment: having a successful child who wants to continue a higher education and, simultaneously, still loves me enough to want me to drop him off at said college.
There are moments--we all have moments--of pure happiness. When a child is so sweet, so likeable, so smart, so kind, that we never want him to change. But those moments are scattered among the realities of life, and the challenge of being a good parent--oh, fine, of being a mediocre parent--is to remember those moments when your child has left Legos in the tub, or underfoot, or has left food crumbs for the cockroaches, or has failed to let the dog out before the dog's bladder gave out, or or or. Mediocre is my realistic goal. It's back to school, and I'm shootin' for average.
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