My enthusiasm for summer break has been slowly worn down over the last 9 weeks. From soccer and tennis camps, to swim team 4 days a week, to a 2 year old who’s decided sleep is for suckers, I’ve been broken like a caged wild animal. My visions of frolicking on the beach with my appreciative children have been replaced with visions of me sending the kids to the first day of school by shoving them out of the minivan and zooming off for a massage, followed by brunch and mimosas with friends.
Following the theme of a previous post, these feelings happen every year. It’s not reality, though. The reality is I want to walk my kids to class that first day. I’ll come home and do housework, and the house will be too quiet. Like the true masochist I am, I’ll miss the bickering, and if I don’t miss the older kids picking on each other, I’ll have my 2 year old home with me most days keeping me busy with his very important toddler wishes (read: demands).
This year, something new brews: thoughts of “the lasts.” This will be my oldest daughter’s last year in the elementary school we all love. I remember the anxiety I felt leading up to her first day of kindergarten. She walked in the class without even looking back. I remember making sure my phone was near me that first day because I was sure she would need me and her highly trained teacher wouldn’t be able to handle it. Of course, she was fine. No one called, and she has loved school since the moment she set foot in her kindergarten class.
Yesterday, I asked my oldest daughter if she was going to let me walk her to class on the first day of school. That conversation went like this:
Me: Tay, are you going to let me walk you to class on the first day this year?
Taylor: *sigh* Why????
Me: Because it’s your last year in elementary school and I’ll never get to walk you to class again.
Me: I don’t have to. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.
Taylor: It’s fiiine. You can do it.
Clearly, she’s just appeasing her ridiculous mother because I’m raising her with a heaping helping of mom-guilt. That said, it was brought to my attention I won’t actually be able to walk her to class because she’s on safety patrol, so she won’t go to class until after the bell rings. I’ve decided the only rational solution is to follow her around while she’s fulfilling her safety patrol duties while sobbing, and singing, “Let It Go.”
This is just the first of the lasts for her this year. There will be the last curriculum night, last parent/student lunches shared in the cafeteria, last talent show, last running club meet, last grade school field trips, last conferences, and then, the worst of all the lasts, the last day of elementary school. I understand there will be many more lasts in all of our lives. Hopefully, as my kids get older and we encounter more lasts, I’ll get used to these feelings and be less of a psycho about them.
Please don’t misunderstand…I know amazing things are in store for all of us, and the only way to encounter these new things is to embrace the changes and grow from our experiences. I am very much looking forward to the new adventures waiting for all of us, but that doesn’t mean I have to love the fact that my kids are growing up way faster than I’d prefer.
My hope for the first day of school is that I don’t completely embarrass my 5th grader, or my 3rd grader who, for the record, also has no interest in me “helping” her to class on the first day. Please send positive thoughts to my poor two year old who, as the youngest of our children, will have to endure the full wrath of a ridiculous mom dreading all the lasts.