School starts tomorrow. For the love of God and all that's Holy, school. starts. tomorrow.
I am just slightly looking forward to this. Anybody else?
I only ask because I will never forget hearing my first set of in-laws say how they hated to see their sons go back to school at summer's end. I remember first being surprised at that and then thinking it was incredibly sweet and what good parents they must be.
And because I am looking forward to my children's return to school tomorrow?
I am not sweet? I am not a good parent?
No. I think I am normal. Well, as close to normal as I get on any given day.
I am looking forward to some quiet. To not saying "Hands to yourself!" upwards of 15 times a day. To not mediating between the two teenagers who I currently share a home with. Granted, all those things can and likely will take place between the hours of 7 and 8:30 a.m. every day as well as again from 3:30 p.m. to 10. But, and it's a big but, there will be a break. A glorious break of giddily parenting one child. One! I haven't parented only one child since October 1996.
And now I feel super ass-errific because my six year old, who is a sensitive emotional person by nature, is sobbing and nervous about going back to school tomorrow. He is currently cuddled with dad on the couch. He is a dad's boy through and through. And still loses his mind a little if Ryan and I attempt to go out for an evening by ourselves. Rhett, who is 3, bids us a fond farewell and carries on. Reese, does not. Right now he is fraught with worry about who will be in his class and being at school for the whole day and when I will be there to pick him up. We are encouraging and reassuring him. My husband is less skilled at this and just told him he might meet his best friend in the world tomorrow. After I have said, 'you'll be okay because you have your best friend to go to class with'. So Reese responds to Ryan with "(Friend) is already my best friend". Ryan says: "You never know". Reese argues this point. Ryan follows it up with a brilliantly played: "Maybe (he'll) move away". At which point I interjected.
What is it with the male psyche that would make one so inclined to suggest the possibility of their already emotionally fragile six year old son's best friend moving away, unexpectedly? Do their penises really have tiny little brains that sometimes take over the conversation? This seems like the only logical explanation at this point.
And now? Now Rhett is up trying to assess the situation; looking for clarification and adding his own helpful comments and analysis. Mostly trying to ensure Reese will be back in bed shortly because it is never okay for one child to be in bed when the other is not.
The morning shall bring new nerves as daughter is set to start high school tomorrow. So she should be extra laid back and chill tomorrow morning. My oldest, who is actually laid back, was not so on the first morning of Grade 9, so she? Who is slightly tense at the best of times? Well I may try to locate some marijuana tonight and make her a special breakfast brownie just to take the edge off. Ah, if only it were so.
And also? Her friend's parent was going to take them in the morning but now I have been assigned with this task. What is wrong with this? What's wrong is taking your child to high school for the first time is harder than taking them to Kindergarten. When you drop a child off for Kindergarten, none of the other kids can drive, nor do they smoke, and they are all fairly tiny. I nearly had to pull over after dropping Steven off on his first day of Grade 9. Number one, my normally cool as a cucumber guy was heart-wrenching-ly nervous and number two? I just left him with all these big bad smoking driving kids! Tears came fast and furious. He was five, last I checked....So tomorrow morning, when I drop Molly (her nickname from when she was actually 5) off, I am hoping I will be old hat at this and not head to the elementary school with puffy eyes and red nose explaining how she used to be very little and pronounce her 'u's' like a double 'oo' as in "Turn up the moosic, Mommy". Or demanding I march through the mall. "Mahrch, Mommy, Mahrch!" Or the charming time we were at a public swimming pool and whilst changing having her ask me with just a hint of disgust: "Why do you have whiskers on your tootsie, Mom?"
Tomorrow is the first day of school and maybe, in some ways, the last days of Molly...
Grade 11. Grade 9. Grade 1. Bean. Bean, who will always be my Bean and shall never grow up, if I have anything to do with it, may have to bear with a little smothering tomorrow but as he is already an attention whore, this shouldn't be a problem.